If You Scream For Adventure
by CrystalGemMaker
Summary: Blossom, orderly and uptight, is taking a summer road trip to “relax”. But relaxing has never been easy for her. Besides, it’s pretty hard to relax with a mysteriousdangerous hitchhiker sitting right next to you. Even if he is cute. BlossomXBrick.slightAU
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Blossom, orderly and uptight, is taking a summer road trip to "relax". But relaxing has never come easy to her. Besides, it's pretty hard to relax with a mysterious hitchhiker right next to you. BlossomXBrick. AU.

---

"_Beyond the door there's peace I'm sure,  
And I know there'll be no more tears in heaven.…"_

Eric Clapton's voice drifted out of the radio and melted into the hot air as I drove my old green station wagon down the road. My bare feet stuck to the plastic gas pedal and the hot air hit my face as it came in from the open window.

"_Would you know my name if I saw you in heaven?_

_Would it be the same if I saw you in heaven?"_

My voice mixed with the smooth melody. I tried to match the slow beat by tapping my fingers on the steering wheel but multi-tasking while driving had never been my strong suit and the beat came out more scattered then it should.

I sighed and looked sideways out the window to see the Arizona desert go by. The sky was turning a deep blue and purple and the stars filled the vast emptiness that seemed to go on forever. Never before had I seen such nothingness.

Growing up in Townsville didn't exactly give me the best views. Sure, there were "sights" and monuments but after seeing the same thing over and over again it all seemed so boring. So routine.

Not that I minded routine. No, in fact, I loved routine. I strived for order. I liked rules and regulations as well as procedures and structure.

But as I got older I found the city to be…suffocating.

It had been my mom's idea for me to take a road trip. She hadn't wanted me to go alone and my father hadn't wanted me to go at all but I was an only child and in the end they always seemed to let me do as I pleased. And leaving the city pleased me very much.

And so I left.

But unlike the spontaneous, free-spirited road-trip my mother had had in mind, I sat down and mapped out everywhere I wanted to go, which roads to take, when I could stop, how much gas it should take, and how much money I would need.

Responsible, my dad had complimented.

Too thought-out, my mom had complained.

Perfect, I had thought.

And it was perfect…at least written out.

I mean, I had it all planned perfectly. I would be traveling, seeing new, exciting things, right? That's what I needed. That was what I wanted.

But as I sat in the car, the music drowning out the sound of the engine and my voice soft and mimicking, I realized I wasn't having fun. The suffocating feeling I'd always had was still there and didn't seem to be leaving anytime soon.

Maybe if I did some of my school work for next year (I had hid it underneath my seat when my mom wasn't looking) I'd cool off. School was something I was good at unlike relaxing and traveling which obviously didn't come as naturally to me as most things did. But my next rest stop wasn't until another two hours, which meant I had to keep traveling to keep on schedule. So summer work wasn't really an option.

I sighed again and gripped the steering wheel a bit harder than necessary.

Relax, I told myself. This is supposed to be the time I loosen up, unwind.

But my fingers still gripped the wheel forcefully and despite the glorious desert around me and the vast open land, I knew I wouldn't be relaxing anytime soon. And more than likely I wouldn't be relaxing at all.

---

"Here you go young lady," An older woman, half asleep but still smiling slurred as she handed me my key for the night. I took it quickly, gave her a quick smile, and retreated back outside.

I found my room easily, the motel not being very big (or nice looking either). I unlocked my door and stepped inside. The lights, once turned on, were dim and slightly flickering. Both of the beds seemed dingy and dirty and hardly suitable for sleeping on.

Somehow I hadn't pictured my sleeping quarters to be so…inadequate. The last stop had been a bit nicer and a lot more sterile.

I wrinkled my nose in disgust and dropped my bag and purse onto the bed. I walked to what I could only assume, and hope, was the bathroom, and let myself in. And if I thought the room was grimy the bathroom put it to shame. I could practically see the bacteria on the slightly moldy tile.

"Well gross," I muttered. I decided, as I looked around, that my toothbrush was not touching any surface of this room, not even the sink. I'd hold it the whole time.

I reached and turned on the faucet (ew) and cupped my hands to get some water. Once my hands were full I splashed the water up onto my face and let the daylong drive be rinsed from my skin. Dust and sand from the desert still stained my face (no more open window for me) and I pouted at the mess I was.

My long red hair, flaming and soft, was now tangled due to the wind and dull thanks to the dirt. A shower, despite how gross it might be inside the tub, was a must. The heat, which had thankfully died down at night, still left my pale cheeks flushed and my throat dry. I licked my parched lips and tried to unknot my hair from the ponytail it was in.

"This is hardly 'fun and free spirited'" I said darkly, mocking my mother's words. I felt even more annoyed and peeved at the disorder around me then I had been before I left Townsville. I had thought leaving the city would be my big change but obviously some changes weren't necessarily good.

Oh well, no turning back now. That wasn't in the plans.

I was going to see this through, no matter how crappy it might turn out.

I grimaced slightly at that thought as I stared dully into my muddy brown eyes. Out of all my features (my pale skin, my ruby red hair, my dark lashes, my dainty chin) my eyes were the thing that always made me feel…wrong.

In a world where all I wanted to do was live my boring life, blend in, and go to school, brown eyes seemed perfect. They were the last thing people usually noticed, they weren't outstanding or gorgeous but they weren't ugly. They were average. Ordinary.

So why did I feel like they didn't look right on my face?

Ever since I was a little girl I had always thought I had the wrong eye color…but that was stupid. Wrong eye color? That's not possible. Brown is what my genetics had picked out for me. So, why then did they not look right? Why, when I pictured myself, did my eyes not look brown?

I sighed, feeling foolish. Brown eyes were fine. They were normal. I was normal. See? No problem. It all went together. It all fit. Just like everything in my life, it fit and worked out perfectly.

Besides, if not brown, what color were my eyes supposed to be?

----

After showering and brushing my teeth (and taking care of other bathroom needs) I climbed into one of the beds. The mattress was stiff and the covers were thin. I tried to get comfortable but even the pillow felt too lumpy and I let out a frustrated sound.

This was annoying.

I closed my eyes and imagined myself in my room at home…but my imagination had never really been that good and within seconds I was flipping and twisting as I fought to find a comfortable position.

"Blossom, honey, I worry about you," My mother had told me before I left. She was the only one who called me by my real name (she had picked it for me) and she was the only one I let get by with it. When she was young she had been a hippie (hence her excitement for my traveling and the bizarre name) and it killed her that I hadn't picked up on any of her relaxed tendencies. But despite how I had turned out, no matter what, I still had that funky name, a little memory of the carefree girl and personality I was intended to have.

"Don't worry about me mom," I had insisted, not understanding what there was to worry about. I was a great student, had lots of friends, and never missed curfew. I was a parent's dream. But unfortunately one of my parents had different dreams than the rest.

She just sighed and shook her head. Her eyes, vibrant and dark blue, got a far off look in them. I always called that look her "regret look" because she always got it when she thought of her past. Her exciting days of flowers and peace signs would fill her brain and then in an instant she'd remember she wasn't young anymore and she'd get sad. She'd look around and see the same old house in the busy city with bills on the table and dinner on the stove and then she'd realize her glory days were gone.

I had never really been sure what to do when she got that look, even after years of seeing it.

"I just don't want you to waste your childhood by trying to be an adult," She finally said once the 'regret look' had cleared from her eyes and she smiled sadly at me. I didn't say anything because I technically thought I wasn't living in my childhood anymore. I was grown up, seventeen, and no longer a kid, but I knew better than to say so. "I just want you to enjoy it while you can."

"That's what this trip is about, remember?" I reminded her, indicating to the list I had made of stuff I needed for my journey that was sitting in front of me on the table. "To get away from the city and relax."

"But I worry it's not the city that stresses you," She whispered, looking out the apartment window at the buildings around us. "I worry that no matter where you go you'll be stressed."

We'd had this discussion before. The one where we talked about how I spent too much time with school and work and mapping out my future. My mom thought all of that was the cause of my suffocating feeling but I knew it was the city. I knew I wasn't creating my own stress.

"Relax mom," I said and rolled my eyes. "If you relax, I'll relax."

"Just…take a chance Blossom," She said with a small smile. "Not everything important in life is in your plans." She smiled at me again and then the regret look was back on her face and I knew the conversation was over.

----

Arizona was…hot. And pretty. But mostly hot. The towns I drove through were nice but average and the "scenes" I had read about on the internet weren't that memorable. What I liked the most, of all of it, was the desert.

Despite the heat and the dust, I liked the emptiness surrounding me. Even though I just looked at it through the window it was still like nothing I'd ever seen before. But even in all its glory it was still just a desert. Nothing too special. Nothing in it screamed freedom and adventure or key to relaxation.

And so I kept driving. My CD's were familiar and calming as I listened to them and I shifted every so often when the bottom of my legs stuck to the seat. But all the while I just kept driving, keeping to the schedule.

"_Moon River, wider than a mile,  
I'm crossing you in style some day."_

The car, despite the air freshener, smelled like sunscreen and I glared down at my traitorous pale skin. I had always burned so easily that I had to buy sun block in the bulk to keep from turning as red as my hair all over. Over the years I had grown used to the smell but I still hated for the old car to smell bad.

Did that make me a neat freak?

Probably.

It's not like I hadn't ever been called that before.

In fact, I'm usually called that on a daily basis.

"_Oh, dream maker, you heart breaker,  
wherever you're going I'm going your way."_

I frowned and squinted when I saw a weird shape up ahead. A cactus maybe? Or maybe something that had fallen off of someone's car? I wasn't sure but I was soon approaching it.

The figure, I noticed, seemed to be moving. Swaying, or rocking, back and forth as it….walked? I squinted again? An animal, of course. It had to be.

I hadn't seen another person (or car) on this road for hours and it'd been forever since I'd passed a town. No human would be this far out in the middle of nowhere unless they were built like a camel or had a death wish.

But as I got closer (when had I started to ease my foot off the gas?) I realized it was no animal. It was, in fact, a person. A person, in the middle of the desert, walking on the side of the road.

Despite the hazy heat and my dusty windshield I could make out broad shoulders (male?), covered by a wet, probably with sweat, t-shirt. The person was wearing a white baseball cap backwards but I could still see hair coming out from underneath it. I couldn't know, however, if it was the dust from the desert or his natural color that gave his hair a rusty, brown-ish, red-ish, tint.

"_Two drifters off to see the world.  
There's such a lot of world to see"_

I was suddenly beside the (suicidal?) man and my heart….stopped. Because as I stared out my window at the person on the side of the road…he turned his head and was starring directly back at me. A spark of fear raced through me, all of me, and I wasn't sure why. But it didn't really matter why either.

I took no time to assess his looks or try to evaluate his age before my foot found the pedal (that I still couldn't remember stepping off of) again and slamming it down hard. The car lurched at the sudden change in momentum and before I could catch my breath or still my now racing heart I was speeding away.

"_We're after the same rainbow's end--  
waiting 'round the bend,"_

I refused to look back at the man in my rear-view mirror, not even sure if he'd be there or not. After all, it could've been a mirage. A figment of my imagination. A result of too much sun.

Yes, that had to be it. That would explain the dizziness I had felt and the queer beat of my heart.

Yes, yes. That was it.

A mere trick of my mind.

That had to be it, because, if not, I could've sworn for a second, due to the eye contact we'd briefly made…that the man on the road had red eyes.

Red eyes?

I shook my head and laughed dryly at my foolishness. People don't have red eyes. People don't walk in the middle of the dessert. And people definitely couldn't survive in this heat.

No, not possible.

It wasn't real.

Just a mirage.

Just my imagination.

'But,' I thought, biting my lip and refusing to look back because looking back might make it real, '…since when had I had an imagination?'

"_My huckleberry friend,  
Moon River and me."_

-----

**No, I'm not giving up on **_**But We're Different!**_** And hopefully you won't either. **

**I just had this in my mind (and it's not done yet) and I'm hoping that writing something else will help me continue BWD!**

**So I'm sorry for the long wait on the other story, but I hope you'll like this too.**

**Review and tell me what you think so far.**


	2. Chapter 2

"_Blossom," The blonde girl before me said, a smile tugging at her lips and her eyes dancing. Her short blonde hair was pulled back into ponytails and her blue dress with a black stripe fluttered in the wind. "You look so sad Blossom."_

_I shook my head. "Don't call me Blossom," I told her but she just sent me a confused look before laughing and shaking her head as if I were a silly child that made a joke._

"_What else would I call you?" She questioned, obviously amused._

"_Bernice," I answered her, raisin my chin defiantly. "That's my name."_

_She frowned and looked at me strangely as if she were just told the grass was purple as was expected to believe it. Her bright blue eyes lit up again and she just laughed._

"_That's not your name, silly," She said with a laugh. "You're Blossom."_

"_No," I said, my tone firm. "My name is Bernice. That's what people call me."_

"_Who calls you that?" Came another voice and I turned to see the green eyed girl. Somehow I had already known she was there but just hadn't seen her yet. Now she looked me over with a disapproving frown. "What's with you lately?" She asked with an accusing tone to her voice that made me blink. They both were so comfortable with me…like they knew who I was._

_Like they understood._

_I frowned, realizing I didn't know exactly who they were._

"_She's just tired," The blonde defended me and I looked back at her child-like face. "She's been up looking for the bank robber all night, right Blossom?"_

_Had I been? I thought hard. _

"_Yeah, that's right," I said, falling into my role and forgetting what the problem had been a few seconds ago. "I think I have the suspects narrowed down to two men. Now we just have to find them and-"_

_Suddenly the building we had been floating beside exploded and the force of the explosion sent me flying into the side of the neighboring building. I blinked my eyes open to see the fire and the mayhem around me._

"_You okay?" The blonde asked, flying up to where I was imprinted into the other building. I pushed myself out of my hole and back into the sky._

"_Yeah," I muttered. I was okay, not a scratch._

"_Come on, lets find out who did this," She said but I didn't follow her as she flew away. _

_I stared dumbly at the building in front of me, watching the flames dance and the black smoke billow up into the sky. I watched as fire trucks came flying down the street, ready to fight the flames. But al the while I didn't move._

"_Are you coming?" Yelled the green eyed girl, her voice annoyed._

_I just looked at her, confused. What was I supposed to do? _

"_Whatever," She muttered before turning and flying away. I just shook my head and turned back to the building. It was now being doused by about six hoses but the flames still roared dangerously. _

'_What's going on?' I thought desperately. _

_I felt helpless as I watched the destroyed building. I didn't know what to do or say. I began to panic, shaking my head to try to clear the image but I could still hear the sirens._

"_Wake up…" A voice whispered around me._

_I shut my eyes tighter and the sound of the sirens and fire became muffled._

"_Wake up…" The voice repeated._

_I took a deep breath._

_And woke up._

_----_

I looked around small motel room, frowning. My hair was stuck to my cheek and I blinked my tired eyes as I tried to fully wake up. The mattress I was laying on creaked as I sat up in bed, the covers pooling around my waist as I stretched.

'2 a.m.' the clock on the nightstand read and I looked at it with a sigh.

Was it really that early?

I frowned, thinking back to my dream.

When I was four I started having these strange dreams. This, obviously, caused no alarm because I was young and little kids are known for their strange dreams. My issue? I never stopped having the same dream.

It always started out the same. I was…floating above Townsville, looking down at it. Sometimes an explosion would occur, sometimes a monster would pop out, but most of the time I'd just be floating there, doing nothing. But no matter what happened three things remained constant in every dream:

First of all, everyone called me by my real name. Sometimes it'd be people down below, screaming for me, sometimes I'd hear it whispered around me, a mocking echo, but mostly I was called it by the one of the other consistent attributes: the two girls.

The two girls, who were always somehow there, seemed to have some sort of significance I could never figure out. There was a blonde with bright blue eyes who always seemed to smile at me or giggle. She seemed ditzy and sometimes careless but nevertheless she was always there. The other girl had black hair and green eyes and what seemed like a permanent scowl. She was loud and looked constantly annoyed. Through the years the two girls had aged with me, going from little kids to seventeen year olds simultaneously with me. I didn't know who they were. I didn't even know what they were.

And the last thing that was always, always constant, was the end of my dream. Weather there be a giant monster, burning building, or just a slight rain, I had always ended my dream the same way. Out of the blue, in the midst of the fighting and fear my nightmares sometimes placed me in, a voice would murmur around me, in me, and I always seemed to be the only one to hear it.

'Wake up,' It'd say, and if I focused hard enough, I would.

The thing I'd always hated, besides the bewilderment the dreams gave me, was the pain they put me through.

Yes, that's right, pain.

Because even for a child, the same dream over and over again is a rare occurrence. And as the years went on my parents became slightly…alarmed by the continuous dreams. And so, on my tenth birthday, I began my therapy.

It was painful, being so young, as well as embarrassing to have to see a therapist. But despite my mother's protest (she thought therapists were wack) my father, always a man of science and logic, finally took me to see Doctor Hadley.

Doctor Hadley was a sweet woman and her office was always neat and orderly which made me feel comfortable. Well, at least as comfortable as I could be given the circumstances.

But over the years I'd grown use to Doctor Hadley, or Jane as she let her patients call her. It had become a habit to go in there and tell her all the details of all my dreams and then have her try to explain what they meant. And over the years we'd gotten to know each other. Well, she had gotten to know me. And her knowledge of me led to her analysis of my dreams.

I create this other world, she'd told me, because it is symbolic to how I feel. The constant danger and destruction I put Townsville in is a representation of how hectic and chaotic I feel the real world around me is.

The reason, she had derived, that people called me by my real name is because in my other world people knew me there. I (unbeknownst to me) was secretly afraid that people wouldn't like me if I let my "perfect" facade down and so in my dreams I had created a world where everyone knew just who I was and accepted it. I didn't like this explanation too much but she seemed happy with it so I always just nodded my head.

The two girls, she reasoned, were different sides of me. Sides I didn't let people see. There was the airy, silly girl side and the loud and aggressive side, both expressed by girls who aged along with me. I thought this was stupid but said nothing. She was the professional after all.

Over the years I had (embarrassingly enough) revealed to her that I was a superhero in my dreams. This statement seemed childish to me but to her it seemed like another, wonderful symbolic element.

I was a superhero, she told me, because of my supreme need be in control of everything around me and my want to keep everything in order. This seemed a bit over the top, I mean, a superhero? It was understandable for a child to dream of being a super being but a teen?

No, as much as I liked Doctor Hadley I could never quite settle for her explanations.

They were thought out and understandable, but each of them made me sound like a head case or a child with a wild imagination. And for some reason they never set right with me.

But I always accepted them. Always nodded and said 'Yes, that makes sense,' because no matter what I could never explain to her how eerily _right_ the dreams felt. Even when they were scary I felt in my place. Sometimes I'd know exactly what to do while I was dreaming, other times I'd be confused and panicked. But I always knew exactly where I was and with whom.

But maybe that meant it really was my dream world, a place for me to escape to and save.

And maybe that meant I _was_ a head case. Because, really, who has the same dreams there whole life?

I frowned and shook my head. Oh well, there was no use trying to figure them out now. What I should be worrying about is why I woke up so early. I had never woken up from a dream that fast. Usually they played out a bit more, but this one just ended.

So that meant something had woken me up.

I looked around the motel room but it was empty and the only sound from inside was the dripping of the sink in the bathroom that had been going on since I got in. Outside I could hear the highway as a few cars passed. I was used to cars a nighttime (thanks to living in Townsville) so that wasn't too strange or anything that would've woken me up.

I sat still and quietly, straining my ears to hear. I ignored the slight fear in my belly because I was, after all, a girl alone in a dingy motel, and tried to listen. Fear would get me nowhere.

That's when I heard something else, the thing that must've made me wake up.

"I just need a room," A voice said from outside. The door to my room was thin and un-sturdy and the voices could be heard clearly through it. I held my breath and listened.

"If you don't have money, then I can't help you," Said another voice I immediately recognized as the man I'd gotten the key from at the front desk earlier. The manager.

"I'll do some work," The first voice, defiantly male, suggested. I could hear the charm in his tone as he tried to cajole the manager into giving him a room. "I'm really good with my hands, so if there are any repairs that you need done-"

"No," The manager cut him off. "I'm sorry, I only take money. We don't allow wanderers to stay here. So you best be on your way, young man. It's late and I need to get back to the desk."

I bit my lip.

Young man?

Technically this was a motel on a busy highway and there were many young men in the world. But still, my mind mulled over the possibility, as slight as it was, that the young man outside was the one from the road.

It was unlikely. Very unlikely.

But still that was the first thing that arose in my mind. I quickly shook the rest of the sleep from my brain before sliding out of the bed. The mattress creaked a bit, giving me away, but I continued to move. When I got to the window I crouched down and peaked through a slightly slanted blind so that I could see outside.

"Of course," The first voice said and I stared at the two men a little ways outside my door.

The fat man was the manager. His gray hair was illuminated by the lights on the awning above him and I could see him watch the other man skeptically, his eyes untrusting but tired.

Then I looked over at the other man, or the "wanderer" as the manager had labeled him, and my body felt suddenly very cold, like someone with icy hands had grabbed a hold of me. I sucked in a breath and stared.

There he was, standing there, seemingly relaxed and wide awake. It was the man from the side of the road. His white hat and gray t-shirt the same as earlier. But now that I was closer to him I realized in my earlier rush and haste that I hadn't gotten a good look at him.

The man outside was hardly a man. He looked to be about my age, maybe a little older, just a boy. His shoulders were broad and his jaw was strong like a man, but his smile was boyish and his eyes were young.

And his eyes, to my relief, weren't red. In the dim light I could see that they shown a light hazel. A mix of green and brown that was normal and safe and made him seem more human and less like the demon murderer I had secretly thought he was when I'd first driven by him.

The tips of his hair that stuck out from beneath his cap were definitely not affected by the dust. No, the brown locks were definitely his own and I stared at the strange color. It was almost a pure mix between brown and red, dark and rusty looking and unlike my solid red locks.

"Now, you get out of here," The manager said, his voice firm and I held my breath, scared. What if the boy was a murderer, or a thief (or a murderer), or a rapist (or a murderer), or a psychopath?

Would he kill the man for not giving him a room?

I watched, immobile, as the boy just smiled again, his pearly teeth gleaming and bright. I noticed then that he had an eyebrow piercing that glinted when the light hit it. The studs above and below his dark brow made him even more threatening looking and I feared for the manager's (as well as my own) life.

"Sorry to inconvenience you," The boy said instead, his slow voice like honey as he just smiled politely. I waited, still worried he'd pull out a gun and shoot, but nothing happened as the old man turned and walked away from him and back to the office.

I sighed and tried to quell my fear, feeling suddenly foolish. I had lived in a city my whole life. A place bouncing with crime and strange men, but never before had I been afraid. I was always careful, always safe.

So why was I worrying?

My door was locked. The blinds were closed. He had no idea I was here or who I was. I was being paranoid for nothing. He was just going to walk away, back out into the desert and disappear.

Yes, that was it. He'd just leave.

"Go away," I whispered. As if he heard me the boy turned and stepped off the concrete walkway and into the parking lot. I watched his back as he left, feeling relieved, glad the strange boy was leaving.

But then he stopped and I felt my breath hitch again. He turned, slowly, to look at something. I could make out the frown on his face and the concentrated look in his eyes as he tried to work something out. He seemed to be trying to remember something, as if he saw something familiar but couldn't think of where he'd seen it before.

I looked to see what he was staring at, my curiosity at this point winning over everything else. I caught sight of what he was staring at and before I could stop it a foul curse dropped from my lips.

My car.

He was staring at my car with a far off, concentrated look.

Did he remember me from earlier? Did he recognize the car and remember how I'd sped off like a fool? Was he mad I hadn't given him a ride? Was he going to kill me?

"Oh God," I whispered as he just shook his head and looked back at the motel, directly at my room. Directly at me.

I hit the floor fast. Hoping he hadn't been able to see me in the window. My breath was ragged as I lay on my stomach, my heart pounding in my ears and my hair spilled out around me.

I waited a few minutes that felt like hours. My mind made horrible scenarios, making the boy outside a crazy murderer that killed everyone who didn't give him a ride. Each scene was scarier and scarier and I tried fruitlessly to quell my fears.

Why didn't I bring a friend along?

At least then….I frowned at myself. Fear made me foolish. Having a friend with me would be pointless. All that would do would make there be two murders instead of just one. Despite the fact that I would feel safer at the moment with someone else there, I still wouldn't wish for my friend to be there too.

If the boy was a killer, then I could only hope he would just walk away.

After a while I rose to my knees, my body rigid. I timidly leaned towards the window, the sound of my own breathing loud to my ears. I feared he'd be right outside my window, looking back at me, but when I glanced out there was no one there.

The parking lot was empty and the boy was gone.

I let out a long breath, feeling better but still tense with fear.

I climbed back into the bed, knowing I wouldn't get back to sleep but trying anyway. I prayed for my consistent dreams, my nightly routine. They were normal, even though they were technically weird. But at least I could handle them, at least they were just make-believe.

Unlike a certain wander who was very scary and, despite my first assumption, very real too.

----

"There you go," The waitress said as she smiled at me. I smiled back but then immediately focused on my breakfast. The pancakes smelled heavenly and I had already gulped down my glass of milk.

It seems fear makes me ravenous.

I began to eat, relaxing in the booth and digging in. The diner was small and mildly crowded with truckers and travelers and I enjoyed the feel of other humans around me. Their loud, boisterous talk usually would annoy me, especially so early in the morning, but I was glad to be alive and eating.

About halfway through my second pancake a bell chimed to signify the door to the diner opening up and I looked over to see who had come in. Another family? Another trucker? A young couple out to see the world?

But my fork hit my plate when I caught sight of a person wearing a white cap walking into the restaurant. I bit my lip and looked around. No one else seemed too concerned or even noticed the new presence in the room but to me it felt like my whole world had screeched to a halt.

Even though it was crowded I felt very alone and scared all of the sudden and I looked around the place, hoping to find another exit.

What if he was in here looking for the owner of the station wagon? What if he was here to kill me in front of all these people?

I swallowed the food in my mouth although I was hardly hungry anymore and my teeth abused my lower lip as I chewed on it in fear and nervousness. I tried to think of a plan but nothing came to mind except _run._ Run as far as you can.

This wasn't part of my original plan. This wasn't in my schedule. I hadn't thought there'd be a crazy wanderer following me everywhere I went. I didn't plan on being killed on this "relaxing" journey.

I stood up slowly, praying he didn't notice me. He didn't seem to and instead he was talking to a waitress, his white smile in place and his piecing noticeable against his tanned skin. I took the distraction while I could and after dropping the money on the table I walked towards the door.

My legs felt slow and my body was tense but finally I passed him and was out the door and into the scorching heat. My flip-flops clapped loudly as I hustled to my car. I thought briefly about the waitress in there talking to the wanderer.

By her blush and her stance I knew she was flirting with the boy and her eyes danced with attraction. I wondered if she knew she was flirting with danger. Would she be alright? Would he hurt her?

I tugged open my door and plopped down into my seat. The air was hot and choking as I jammed the key in the ignition and reared the car up. I locked the door before throwing the car into reverse and pulling out from my spot.

With one last look at the diner I switched the car into drive and hit the gas. The highway wasn't very busy but there were enough cars around me that I didn't feel like I stuck out. As I pushed down on the accelerator more I let out a breath.

"There," I whispered as I reached over and turned on the radio. "He's gone now."

And I breathed easily as I watched the dessert whirl by me.

---

This was not part of the plan.

No, this was no where near what I had thought and planned out.

I had thought the wanderer was going to be my only obstacle this journey. Obviously, I was wrong. I had gotten away from him. At least twenty miles down the road. But unfortunately I had more trails I had to face.

I ran my hands through my hair, the sweaty strands were tangles and I sighed in frustration. The heat wasn't helping my temper and neither was the dust stirred up by cars that drove by me. My eyes and throat stung from the dirt and I glared down at the traitorous flat tire my car was now sporting.

"Who leaves a beer bottle in the road, honestly!?" I shouted, kicking the flat tire with mounting anger and ignoring the pain shooting through my foot. Now here I was, stranded in the middle of the desert with a flat tire and a ton of strangers driving by and showering me with little rocks and dust.

I knew I wasn't going to be able to fix the tire on my own so I went back into the car, the air-conditioner a welcomed feeling. I shut (and locked) my door before grabbing my cell phone from the consol.

Briefly I considered calling home. My dad would somehow find a helicopter in order to come get me if I needed it. He'd always been against this trip and all I'd have to do was mention a weird wanderer and he'd be here in a heartbeat, not even waiting to hear about the flat tire.

But even though calling home would delight my father I knew my mother wouldn't be so thrilled. She wouldn't be mad. No, she'd kiss and hug me and say she was sorry for pushing the trip on me but in the end I'd know she was really only sorry that I hadn't had a good time. That I hadn't been free spirited or adventurous.

Maybe Doctor Hadley was right. Maybe I wanted my parents' (and everyone else's) acceptance too much. Maybe I strived too much on approval. Whatever it was, it was keeping me from calling home. From admitting defeat. From telling my mom that not only was I nothing like her but I was also a failure at surviving on my own.

And so I jammed my cell phone into my pocket, grabbed my purse and sat still. The radio buzzed in my ear, an old Neil Young song that I tuned out as I sat thinking.

"_When I was a hitchhiker on the road  
I had to count on you"_

It probably wasn't a far walk back into town. I could get there, get a toe-truck, and be back on the road by nightfall. It'd slow my schedule down but I'd have to live. Sitting in the car all day wouldn't help anyway.

"_But you needed me to ease the load  
And for conversation too"_

And so I killed the engine and pocketed my keys. Making sure to lock the doors, I began to walk back towards the town, leaving my car stranded on the side of the highway. The heat was immense but I had to deal.

_"Or did you just drive on  
Did you just drive on?"_

My shirt clung to my back and sweat pooled in the dip of my bra as well as other places. Cars kept driving by, sometimes slowing down but when I didn't look up or pay them heed they'd just keep driving by.

I swallowed a mouthful of dust. My eyes stung and I felt like all the liquid was being drained from my pores. My skin, wet with sweat, was slightly pink and I had already, undoubtedly, sweated off my sunscreen.

"_Did you just drive on through?"_

-----

I sighed and my breath was short. I had been walking for probably an hour now and my legs were tired and burning.

Never before had Townsville ever been this hot. I could only hope the town was closer then I remembered it to be because if not I just might burn to death before I made it there.

As I walked I began to imagine the mechanic walking towards me, tool box in hand and ready to help me out. He'd fix my car fast and I'd be on the road before I knew it. The schedule would be saved and so would I.

I grinned at my train of thought, my imagination so strong I could practically see the mechanic walking towards me now, his walk slow and casual, his form approaching slowly. I blinked and the image was still there, in the midst of the haze of heat and the cloud of dust.

I slowed, staring at the hallucination ahead of me. And then I stopped all together, the heat no longer on my mind and my body feeling suddenly very cold and inflexible.

I felt like sighing.

I should have known earlier that my imagination wasn't _that_ good.

No, there was no tool box in the hand of the approaching figure. And it was no mechanic either. No, fate wouldn't let me have that kind of luck.

"Hey!" The figure called and I tried to look calm as I watched the wanderer approach me, his grin slightly strained and his tanned skin flushed from the heat. He was about six feet from me when he stopped. I hoped if he pulled out a gun to shoot me the passing cars would take notice.

I realized with a jolt that it was my turn to talk and I cleared my throat, willing my voice not to shake.

"Hello," I said evenly and I almost sighed in relief. I hoped he'd just keep walking and leave me to my own business but he didn't and instead we both remained rooted in our spots, staring at each other.

"Are you lost?" He finally asked, his hazel eyes looking into my own and making me flinch. He noticed my grimace and his smile became even more strained and the skin around his eyes became tight.

Oh god, had I made him mad? Was he going to kill me now?

I licked my dry lips quickly in hopes to amend myself before he decided to cut my throat. "I'm kind of on my way back to town." I said, hoping he got the hint and let me pass. "So if you don't mind…" I trailed off.

"If I don't mind what?" He asked, raising his eyebrow, the one with the eyebrow piercing. I let out a raged breath and ran my fingers through my sweaty hair in nervousness.

"Um, letting me continue on my way," I mumbled, still hoping he'd not kill me.

His brow furrowed together at that statement and his grin slid off his face. "You're the one who stopped walking first," He said, his tone wasn't harsh but it had lost that charming quality I'd heard in it before. "I was just being polite."

What?

I did remember stopping first, but…but still! He didn't have to stop too!

Since when were psychotic, deranged killers polite?

"Oh, well," I fumbled, still apprehensive around him. I looked at my feet but then look quickly back up at him incase he attacked while I wasn't looking. "I-I guess I'll be going now."

I sidestepped around him and was about to make it by when his voice reached my ears, making me stop.

"You'll die before you reach the town," He said and my body became rigid again and I felt my breath catch in my throat. I had been so close! And now I was going to die on a highway in the middle of the dessert.

"O-oh?" I said, trying to sound casual, hoping he'd look away enough for me to start to run. But his hazel eyes were steady and controlled and I breathed uneasily. Now we were closer, I could reach out and touch him if I wanted.

"Yeah," He said, sounding a lot more casual than I had managed. "You're sweating too much; you'll be dehydrated within an hour." He finished and I blinked. And then blinked again.

Was he tricking me? Mocking me?

Dehydrate? That's how he thought I was going to die? Not by him?

"What about you?" I countered, trying to get him to stop playing mind games and admit he was trying to kill me. "Won't you dehydrate?" I questioned.

"I have water," He said, and then he lifted a strap off his shoulder to indicate a worn out backpack I hadn't realized he had. Was that where the murder weapon was?

"Oh," I said plainly, inching back a step.

He watched me calmly as I twitched nervously again. Run, just run.

"Do you need help or anything?" He asked and this time he sounded charming again, the tone in his voice that I hardly trusted for a second. I frowned at him and his dashing smile.

"No, it was just a flat tire, I'll be fine," I said evenly. Run, just run.

"A flat tire?" He repeated. "That's my specialty." He said and then he shrugged as he turned and began walking in the direction I had come from. His pace was casual but faster than mine had been and I watched as he walked away. Towards my car. I hesitated, looking at his back and then towards the vast nothingness in the direction of the town.

As much as I hated to trust him, he wasn't lying when he said I'd die before I got there. I knew that, I had just been trying to ignore that fact. But in truth the heat would be the end of me if I kept walking.

But if I went with him…

Either way I was dead, but with him I'd have a slight chance.

I sucked in a breath and nodded in determination. My mind was panicked slightly, still worried about my appending death and the fact that my schedule was messing up as I hesitated, but my body began walking.

"Hey!" I shouted and it felt like the heat morphed my words and slowed my thoughts. "Wait up!" I shouted again, and this time he turned and stopped. The desert stretched out around him, the road to his side, and his eyes met mine evenly.

"I'm coming," I said as I got closer, refusing to run, knowing the effort would be too much.

He just watched as I got closer, his face and body tense and still. Fear coursed through me but I ignored it as I reached him. We stood awkwardly for a moment before he turned and began walking again.

My feet hurt and my head ached from the heat and I was slightly glad, but still apprehensive, when I noticed he had slowed his pace down so that I didn't have to stumble after him.

I looked at him from the corner of my eyes as we walked. His skin was dark and his muddy red hair looked too soft to have been in the desert all day. The skin stretch across his high cheekbones was littered with tiny freckles from the sun and a pink spot under his eye stood out thanks to overexposure to the heat and the light.

As I stared sneakily at him he turned his eyes to me, catching me in the act. My face felt aflame from the heat and my new blush that sprung across my cheeks form being caught. I swallowed and looked away quickly, embarrassed and scared that I had been staring.

From the corner of my eye I saw him look away and up ahead at the desert in front of us, his smile spreading on his lips again.

Oh lord, what had I gotten myself into?

------------

**There you go. Hope that was okay.**

**I'm not sure, but I think this one is harder to write then my other one but I'm trying.**

**Tell me what you think.**

**And oh yeah, what do you think is the best smell for a guy? I can't decide. :-)**


	3. Chapter 3

It was awkward and frightening, standing there while the wanderer was on the ground fixing my tire. I suppose I should've been grateful, but instead I was just fearful. Sure he was helping me _now_…but later?

But at least he hadn't been fully lying, he _did _know how to change a tire and within a short amount of time the spare tire was in place and he was putting the jack back into the trunk.

"Where are you heading?" He had asked while I stood above him, shifting slighting and watching him closely incase he slashed my other tires. I jolted slightly at his question, not wanting to answer it and reveal anything about myself.

"West," I said vaguely, my tone short and firm, leaving no room for elaboration.

"West is good," He commented and despite his airy tone I could hear the slight sarcasm in his words and I frowned. _Ass_. "Visiting family or something?" He questioned again and although it just seemed like simple small talk I crossed my arms and put up my guard.

When I didn't answer he turned, still crouching and looked me over quickly. His eyes seemed slightly resigned and he gave off another disarming smile that seemed rather tired.

"I don't mean to pry," He said in all honesty but I hardly believed him. Nor did I trust him. "You don't have to tell me." He continued. No, he wasn't fooling me. I was aware of people like him. I watched the news, I wasn't dumb. He was waiting for me to trust him, spill my guts and life story, and then…and then he'd really spill my guts.

Yepp. That was it.

That's what he was doing.

And he wasn't fooling me.

"All done," He said, as he shut the trunk and looked over at me. I frowned and nodded.

"Thank you," I said primly, making a show of acting brave as I jutted out my chin and shifted towards the car door. My skin was still burning and slick with sweat but at least I was alive. For now.

"Have a good trip west," He said, whipping the sweat off his brow and looking too casual and comfortable for a murderer who was standing in the middle of the desert staring at his next victim.

"I will," I said shortly, reaching for the handle and opening the door slightly but then I stopped. I looked over at him, and tried to sound polite. "I could pay you…if you'd like." I offered, hoping to make some kind of peace treaty.

His eyes looked at me for a second and I couldn't help but shiver. When he wasn't smiling his charming smile, his face looked so…serious. So different. His eyes were intense and his mouth was a hard line. It was enough to raise another bout of fear in my stomach and send a chill up my spine.

"Well," He began as he stared off at the desert. "I could use a ride to the next town if you don't mind. I was planning on hitchhiking anyway but this just spares me the effort."

"No," I said as quickly as I could and I immediately winced at how rushed I sounded. "I mean," I began talking fast, trying to amend my earlier rush. "I just don't think that's such a good idea. I…I just-"

"That's fine," He said and he smiled again. "Thanks anyway." And then he grabbed his bag off the ground and began walking. I watched him, unsure of myself.

That was it? He was okay with that? Was this a trick?

I huffed slightly, not liking the mind games this obviously criminally depraved boy was playing on me. And besides the fact that he was just walking away…he didn't even want money?

"Don't you want anything else?" I called to him when he was a few yards away. He turned back to look at me and I felt my breath catch at his composed face, still not used to the utter difference between it and the way he looked when he smiled.

"Nothing you could give me," He said before turning and continuing his journey away from me.

My mouth fell open.

_Well then…_

"Fine," I snapped although he was too far to hear me. I huffed and yanked the car door the rest of the way open and got in. The air inside was just as hot as it was outside but I ignored that fact as I revved up the engine and put on my buckle.

The nerve of some people, honestly!

I was being polite. I was offering him money! Money that he would probably use to buy drugs or some other horrible thing. And this is how he responds?! How utterly rude.

"Nothing _you _could give me," I mimicked, making my voice lower. I snorted at the thought. "Nothing _I _could give him? As If he even knows me. What a jerk. He knows nothing about me."

I hit the gas and pulled out on the road. There were no cars in sight as I began to drive but my foot remained light on the pedal despite my desire to go fast. Despite my slow speed I was still fast approaching the boy and my temper flared again.

"Nothing you could give me," I muttered under my breath like a curse. My car pulled up beside him and I hit the button that lowered the window on the passenger's side. He continued to walk and I continued to pace him, going his rate. "Thanks again for the help." I said, albeit a bit harshly.

He turned and looked at me, his smile still missing and his eyes dark. I bit my lip, fully expecting an apology for his rude statement. I waited for his broody face to turn happy or apologetic. But he didn't apologize. He didn't say anything.

No, instead he turned, while still walking, and grabbed the door handle. It was too late when I realized that in my foul mood I had forgotten to lock the doors and before I had a chance he had already pulled it open.

"What're you doing!?" I yelled shrilly. My foot accidentally weighing down on the gas pedal harder and the car began picking up momentum. "Shut that door right now!" I ordered, my tone firm and leaving no room for arguments but he didn't seem to notice. Or care.

And suddenly he used his grip on the door of the car and hauled himself into the passengers seat. My heart was pounding and my body was rigid, my mind awash with fear. But the sound of the door shutting snapped me out of my slight stupor.

Quickly I slammed down on the brakes, causing my seatbelt to lock and pull tight across my chest. The crazy (deranged, psychotic, murdering, drug dealing) boy slid forward and put his hands out to stop himself from hitting the compartment underneath the dashboard due to the fact that he wasn't wearing a seatbelt.

"Get out!" I screamed, my body feeling cold but my face was hot with anger.

"I need a ride," He said casually, sliding back into the seat and looking entirely too comfortable in my car. I frowned, my foot still firmly on the brake and my eyes glued on him.

"Out now!" I ordered.

"Hey, I fixed your tire, remember?" He questioned as if I were being irrational.

"Yes, you idiot, I remember. I also remember that by United States' laws, hitchhiking is illegal." I snapped. "So if you d don't mind getting out…" I trailed off, hoping and praying he'd just leave.

"I'll get out at the next town," He said reasonably and slumped into the seat like he owned the world. Which he didn't. And he also didn't own this car which meant he had to get out. Right then.

I made a frustrated noise, my fear being drowned out by my irritation and I opened my mouth to yell some more. But before I could speak a car horn sounded, making me jump. I looked into my rearview mirror to see that a car had come up behind me and the driver didn't look too happy with my stand-still arrangement.

"Darn," The wanderer said with obvious sarcasm. "I guess you have to drive now."

I looked briefly at him but the very sight of him sent my body humming and nervous. But as much as I wanted to be rid of the crazy fool I _did_ have to drive. And so I hit the accelerator, my mind a whirl and my body rigid…and a boy in the seat beside me.

When I had finally reached the legal speed I began to inwardly curse myself.

How could I let this happen?

How on earth am I going to survive this?

----

"I can't believe you just jumped in this car," I muttered. I had been talking non-stop for the past hour and was surprised that the fear in me had dulled down. Now I had mostly anger…and plenty of it.

The car continued down the road, the land passing by us quickly.

_Us_.

_Us_…as in me and the stupid boy who did not belong in my car.

The stupid boy who was now lounging comfortably in the seat next to me, his body seemingly too large for the chair and his presence too immense for the car. His eyes were constantly trained on the view out the windshield and although he hadn't talked since he'd jumped in, he still smiled that annoyingly pristine smile every time I got the breath to continue to scold him.

I frowned at how amused he seemed by my temper. It made me want to smack him.

Was I still afraid of him?

Well, duh.

But if I was going to die it wouldn't be quietly and it wouldn't be without a fight. I'd lived my whole life in control of everything and I'd be damned before I lost control of this trip.

And besides, I was definitely keen on giving this boy a piece of my mind.

"And who even jumps into a moving vehicle, anyway?" I continued, my throat slightly dry but my mouth still moving. "You could've fallen and gotten run over. And then I'd be in trouble and it'd all be because of you."

"If you didn't want me to get in you wouldn't have slowed down," He said easily if not with slight humor but still the sound of his voice had me locking up and tensing. But then my mind processed his words and my hands gripped the wheel harder.

"You think I was inviting you in here?" I asked mockingly, questioning his sanity.

"Well, you made it pretty easy," He said with a shrug, his fingers picking at his worn-out jeans. I opened my mouth to retaliate again but he cut me off before I could. "I think you subconsciously wanted me to come, that's why you didn't lock the door and drove so slowly by."

I clamped my mouth shut, upset. How dare he twist my actions?

He turned his head and our eyes met briefly, his grin kicking up a notch when my face heated up with anger. I twisted my head to look back at the road and my mouth twisted into a scowl.

The car was silent as I continued to drive. I was slightly angered that he'd gotten me to shut-up so easily but made my self busy by trying to ignore him. But I found that hard to do because we were, after all, in a small car and each other's only company.

His existence was so…evident. Even when I wasn't looking at him I could still see him from the corner of my eye. And when I stared out to the side I could still feel him sitting there, my whole body aware of his form. I found if annoying that even with the air-condition he seemed to warm up the car. His skin, clothes, and very form seemed to leak the heat of the desert and I could feel his warmth against my side without even having to touch him.

I sighed, having been quiet for at least five minutes, and moved to turn on the radio, still mindset on ignoring him.

All I had to do was get to the next town. And then he'd be gone.

"Could you at least put on your seatbelt?" I asked when I found it was harder to keep from talking then I originally thought. How had I gone this whole trip so quietly thus far?

"Are you planning on crashing?" He asked, his voice practically laughing.

"No," I frowned. "I'm not planning on it. But it's still a law and the safe thing to do. And it_ is_ my car so I order you to **put**. **on**. **that**. **seatbelt**."

He starred at me, a bit shocked by my biting tone but only for a second before he raised an eyebrow and smiled that dumb smile again. It seemed I amused him but I was hardly laughing and I bit my lip to keep from yelling again.

"_Please_," I finally said, my voice slightly pitiful as I felt myself losing control of my whole trip. My whole life. If I had no control I had nothing. If I didn't have control I wouldn't know what to do.

It was silent again and I sighed and stared out my side window, content that there was no one in front of me to worry about hitting. I just didn't want to have to look at him. And so I stared blankly at the desert, wondering slightly if it was ever going to end. The red rocky terrain was never ending and I watching it pass by with a frown.

_Click_.

I turned at the noise, startled, just in time to see the wanderer look away from me and out his side window. I suddenly found it very hard not to smile when I noticed the seatbelt stretched across his chest.

"Thank you," I said, forcing the happiness out of my voice so that he didn't know it had made me oddly giddy and I had to bite my lip to keep from smiling. But he said nothing and didn't turn, his body tense from the knowledge I was looking at him.

"_When I am older   
When I am 94  
I'm gonna die in the desert"_

The wanderer shifted slightly, and I realized with a bit of humor that the seatbelt was uncomfortable for him by the way he kept trying to adjust it to keep it from touching his form. Finally he sighed, the harsh material against his neck and chest and peculiarly annoying him.

"So what's your name?" He asked after he gave up on the buckle and he looked over at me. I bit my lip, not wanting to tell him anything.

"Bernice," I said finally, giving him my middle name like I gave everyone else. Maybe since it wasn't my real name he wouldn't be able to find out anything about me. And I wasn't going to give him my last name.

Besides, who's ever heard of someone killing a Bernice?

_  
"That's what the desert's for  
And there'll be no water  
No rain, no hail, no tears  
'Cos it never rains in the desert  
Like it has where I live here."_

"Bernice?" He repeated, his tone laughing but I was used to this reaction to my name. I didn't mind. I'd rather be laughed at for a weird boring name than a weird hippie name. I like the old, dull sound of it.

"Yes," I said plainly to show I wasn't kidding. I saw him nod from the corner of my eye in acceptance. "It'd be polite if you told me your name now." I informed him and then I heard him snort in indignation.

"Brick."

Okay, so obviously he wasn't going to give me his real name either. But still. Brick? He could've thought of something better than that. I mean, I had no imagination and I could've come up with a better name.

"_I look up and see a million stars in the sky  
Not a sound but the ringing in my ears when I die  
In the desert"_

"Fine, _Brick_." I said with practiced patience that I hadn't shown earlier. "Where are you heading?"

"Nowhere," He said, still staring out the window and his body still tense. "Anywhere."

"You have no plan?" I asked and he shook his head. "No destination?" He shook his head. "No money?" He shook his head. "Are you insane?" He laughed then and I mentally reminded myself not to make him laugh again, it was far to rich and distracting.

"You don't have to have a plan," He said with a shrug, looking away from the window and back at me. I fought the urge to look over at him, not liking having him staring at me without myself being able to glare back. "Sometimes you just have to start walking…and find out where you end up."

"But you aren't walking anymore," I reminded him, my earlier temper about his unapproved hitchhiking coming back. "Besides, how can you just start walking and not know what's going to happen to you? That's dangerous."

"I think you'll find I can handle most danger," He said evenly, staring out the windshield.

I shivered, suddenly aware that I had momentarily forgotten my fear of the boy. But it came rushing back at his words, no matter how calm and frivolous they were. I swallowed hardly and stared blankly at the road ahead of me, wishing the town would come up sometime soon.

"_That's what the desert's for."_

_-----------_

I pulled into the front of the restaurant, The Barren Banquet, that I had found on the internet prior to my journey and had decided to visit. The restaurant, however, was slightly more…rundown than the advertisements had said.

But my stomach was growling from having no meal since breakfast and it was now growing dark, so I had to suck it up and find out how it was.

"Um," I fumbled as I put the car into park and turned it off. I glanced briefly at the boy, unsure of what to do. Kick him out? Let him leave on his own?

Technically we were in town now, and it was his time to leave. But what was I supposed to say in the meantime?

"Thanks for lift," He said quickly, charmingly and I frowned. He pushed the door open and climbed out. When he turned back stomach clenched but he was only reaching for his bag and once he grabbed it he shut the door and was gone.

I ignored the way that despite the heat of the desert, my car was annoyingly colder without his form inside it and instead I grabbed my purse and got out myself. I locked the door before walking towards the building, a cactus in front of the door and an adobe-like texture to the walls.

Inside it was loud and busy but I was seated almost immediately. It was cold and I pulled nervously at my shorts as I watched the people around me. Happy, drunk, loud. I sighed and settled for glancing at the menu and when I saw nothing to my taste I settled for a salad and waited for the waitress.

Well, I sighed. It was over. No more wanderer, or Brick as he said his name was. I should be happy too. More relaxed.

But my body was rigid and my knuckles white as I gripped the menu. I mauled over why I was acting so strange but couldn't think of why. So I just ignored it and shivered slightly as I sat underneath the blowing air conditioner.

"Be happy," I muttered as the waitress began walking my way, wearing a ridiculous cowgirl outfit that exposed more of her body then some forms of lingerie. "He's gone. It's over." I whispered. "Be happy."

But I wasn't. But that was okay.

I didn't need to be happy.

I just needed to be alive.

------

I walked up to the motel desk, the big burly man behind it looked half asleep and looked at me warily. I smiled confidently, pulling out my wallet and tilting my head.

"I'd like a room for the night," I said politely.

"I'm sure you would," He replied with no small amount of sarcasm. I blinked, slightly abashed by his harsh tone, but he elaborated. "Sorry honey, I just gave the last room to that fella. We have no more rooms."

I blinked again, not wanting to believe what he said. This was the only motel in this town, he had to have a room. I turned to see who he had referred to, not having noticed another person when I had first walked in.

I froze.

There was Brick, standing there, watching me as he shifted a bit awkwardly. A key dangled from his hands and he nodded at me before walking out of the room and undoubtedly towards his room. The last room.

I snapped out of my slight stupor, not having expected to see him again, and turned back to the man at the desk who was now reading a magazine and had obviously forgotten about me.

"Are you positive?" I asked, my voice high and my stomach churning.

"Yes darling, I'm completely and absolutely positive," He said blandly, not even bothering to look up from the pages. "Now 'skit before I get frustrated with 'ya." He finished.

I blanched, put out, before backing away from the desk on stiff legs and turning to walk outside.

The night air was warm and fresh and I breathed in deep, trying to stop the nervous feeling from spreading through me. But my body and mind were tight with fear. What was I going to do?

I sighed and turned to walk back to my car but froze when I caught sight of a shadowed form, leaning against the wall and staring down at a key in his hands. I watched as Brick, shadowed and still, looked up at me, his face resigned.

"Here," He said with his low voice, the one he had when that charming tone was nowhere to be found. When his voice was low it was dark and raw and I shivered slightly. "You take the last room." He said, stepping towards me, the key outstretched in his hand.

"W-what?" I asked, not understanding. He had (somehow) gotten the money to get a room and now he was just going to give it to me. That made no sense. I frowned. "I don't-"

"I've slept on the ground before," He said easily, casually, and his charming tone was back. "It's not that bad and it won't be last time I'll do it." He continued. "You, however, aren't exactly cut out for the desert ground."

I couldn't argue with him there, but I couldn't take the key either. "It's okay, I'll just sleep in my car." I said, not mentioning how utterly terrifying and uncomfortable that would be. "You keep the key." I finished, slightly upset that I was turning it down but not really having another option.

He stepped towards me again and I remained in my place, refusing to step back despite the urge to flee. And then he reached down and grabbed my wrist. It was the first time he'd ever touched me and the immediate shock and nervousness that went through my body had my mind reeling.

His grip was gentle and unthreatening and his fingertips were calloused as he pulled up my hand and dropped the key into it, they warm metal and his warm fingers making my body focus all my senses on that hand.

I found it oddly hard to breathe as he let go but didn't step back. I stared down at the little piece of metal in my hand, my face blank and the night hiding my blush.

"Take it," He said again before he turned to walk away. I looked up at his back and sucked in a breath.

"No," I called, my voice making him halt and he turned, looking at me with this frustrated, worn-out look. His eyes were tired and his mouth was a thin line, and the light cast odd shadows across him.

"Are you always this stubborn?" He asked.

"Yes," I answered honestly and then bit my lip as he walked towards me again, his body taller than mine and his eyes intense.

He reached out again, cupping his hand around mine, which was still outstretched. I looked down at our hands, his large one driving the key into my palm and making me wince slightly.

"Take the damn key," He said, no trace of charm in his voice anymore.

"No," I said weakly.

"Take it." He insisted.

"No," I retaliated, feeling a bit braver.

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No!" I shouted, trying to yank my hand from his but his grip was firm and the key was still hot between out skin.

"Yes, damn it," He said a bit loudly. "It's a gift to you, and I won't take it back."

"It's not a gift," I snapped. "It's yours and I won't take it!"

He opened his mouth to say something else, his eyes wild and alive and his face flushed with anger or frustration (I'm not sure which one). But at that instant the door to the office swung open and the big man from behind the desk walked out, his figure looming.

"What's going on out here?" He snapped. "I have customers trying to sleep, but you two are keeping them up." He said with scorn and his large form took a step closer.

I stared, wide-eyed at the man, my body awash with nervousness. He looked angry and without my consent my body stepped closer to Brick in an attempt to shrink from sight. I hadn't expected the angry man to emerge so furiously from his office. Nor did I expect Brick's hand to grip mine more firmly and pull it so that I was a breath away from his chest.

"Well?!" The man shouted and I blinked at him, frustrated at our silence and I glared at him for his rudeness.

"Yeah, yeah," Brick muttered sarcastically. "We're going." He said turning and walking away, seemingly unconcerned by the still looming man. It seems, however, that he had forgotten about our linked hands and within two steps my arm was yanked and I stumbled after him.

"Move it!" The man shouted after us as I was dragged along behind Brick. "And I don't wanna hear your yellin' anymore!" He finished.

"We hear you!" Brick yelled back, obviously unafraid, and his temper picking up. "Damn, no good simpleton," I heard him mutter, his grip on my hand slightly tighter and the metal key dug into my skin. "I ought to-".

"Hey," I called, trying to keep my voice down but needing to get his attention. He stopped walking and we stood in front of a green door with the number '17' screwed on. "Do you mind not dislocating my arm?" I asked and instantly he dropped my hand as if I'd scalded him. I noticed he'd kept the key in his grip.

"This is the room," He said as if he hadn't heard me. He opened it up and before I could say anything he grabbed the crook of my arm and dragged me by my elbow inside.

"Let go!" I shouted as he shut the door behind us. He complied and dropped my arm while flicking on the lights. I blinked and looked at the small room and the two beds. I briefly saw him lean against the closed door, unconcerned with my mounting fear.

"Take whatever bed you want," He said with a slight lure to his voice and I blinked at him, not liking the feeling of not knowing what was going on. I _always_ knew what was going on. When I didn't I felt so lost.

"What?" I asked, my voice challenging him, refusing to let him know I was scared.

Was this it? Was he going to kill me now? All alone in this motel room…would it end here? I doubted the man at the front desk would even care if I screamed.

"I said, take whichever bed you want," He repeated slowly, pushing off the door and walking towards the small T.V. "There's two beds, we might as well share the room." He said plainly, as if it were so simple. So understandable.

I began to shake my head, already ready to turn him down on the offer, when the television clicked on. I frowned, never one for T.V. unless it was the news. But he seemed immediately absorbed with whatever night show was on one of the few channels the motel television had and he stood starring at the screen, the glow illuminating his face.

"I'll take this bed," I said, dropping my purse down on the bed closest to the door…just incase.

He didn't seem to be listening anymore and instead he sat down on the edge of the non-taken bed, the mattress creaking beneath his weight, tossing his bag carelessly against the pillows. He shoulders hunched as he leaned his elbows on his knees to watch and I frowned at his idleness.

But then again, I'd rather him do nothing than kill me.

And so I grabbed my I.D. and money from my purse, moving so that my body hid my actions so that he didn't see how paranoid I was, and walked with them into the bathroom. I tossed them onto the sink counter, happy to see that this bathroom was much cleaner than the last one. And, after making sure the door was locked, I stripped off all my clothes (they were all dirty and sweaty) and hopped into the shower.

Red dirt began to cover the bottom of the tub as it ran off my skin. I didn't relax under the hot water, however, thanks to the boy in the next room. My whole body was consistently aware of him and my ears strained to hear if he was moving but the water drowned out all other sounds.

"I'm in so much trouble," I whispered, resting my forehead against the cool tile and letting the water hit my back. I lifted it and banged it against the tile. "What's wrong with you Bernice? You're going to get yourself killed."

My words, obviously, did nothing to quell my fears and instead I just shut off the water, stiff but clean, and stepped out of the tub. Bumps arose on my skin at the loss of the heat.

_Brick is warm_.

I immediately squashed, ran over, backed up and ran over again, that thought before it could progress. It was foolish and idiotic and…suicidal. And I immediately discarded it as a simple slip. I was, after all, tired and worn out, and my emotions were shot. It was understandable for me to be thinking weird thoughts.

What kind of name was Brick anyway?

I laughed softly as I dried myself off and reached for my clean clothes….only to see that I had no clean clothes. None. My bag was still in my car.

I cursed quite colorfully, wrapping the towel around me and glancing disdainfully down at my dirty clothes on the floor. I could either put those back on and go get my bag…or I could ask Brick to get them for me.

I hesitated.

"Damn," I whispered. Why was I such a clean freak? I should just put on the dirty clothes and go out myself.

I nodded and grabbed my old underwear, fully intent on putting them on, but then I saw some red dirt the must had gotten up my shorts and not dusted my bra, underwear, and all my other garments. I frowned and dropped the clothing to the ground. This was not good.

I sucked in an uneven breath before unlocking the door and opening it just enough to see the room but not enough for him to be able to see clearly in. I'd die before he saw me in a towel…and I jut might die very soon.

Cursing myself again for my pessimistic thoughts and my clean ways, I cleared my throat and stepped close to the cracked door. Steam drifted from the bathroom and into the room and I saw the faint glow of the television.

"Um…Brick?" I asked, my voice firm and calm. Calmer than I felt.

"Yeah?" I heard him ask.

I was quiet, not sure what to say or how to ask it. I was aware how foolish I'd sound but tried to tell myself how dumb it was to be embarrassed in front of Brick (if that was his _real_ name) but still I hesitated.

Unfortunately I hesitated too long and in the absence of my voice I heard the bed creak and held my breath when I heard Brick walking towards the door. Panicked, I slammed it shut before he could get too close, and stepped back, breathing quickly.

Idiot! Idiot! Just put on your dirty clothes. Just do it!

Before I could move, though, I heard the footsteps stop just outside the door and I held my breath.

"Bernice?" I heard him call, the low tones of his voice coming easily through the thin door. "You okay?"

"Yes," I said quickly. "I just forgot to grab clean clothes and…well…"

I heard him walk away from the door and I frowned, dejected. How rude! I was talking to him! And he just walks away! My quick temper flared up but I bit my lip to stop from doing anything rash. I tried to remind myself that this was not the person to let lose my rage on, but still my mind was flaring with heat.

_Knock. Knock._

I looked at the door, startled by the soft rapping, and walked over to the wooden slab and put my hand on the handle. I hesitated before opening it slightly and fearfully, not knowing what to expect.

A gun…or a knife maybe. I was expecting that.

I wasn't, however, expecting a ball of clothing being shoved at me through the small opening. I fumbled to catch them and while my hands were full I heard the door click as Brick shut it, leaving me alone again.

I stared down at the garments in my hand.

It was a pair of silver sports pants, the material sheen and two black stripes down the side of both legs. The t-shirt was plain and white and was seemingly clean except for a slight tear on the shoulder. I just stared blankly down at them, not quite sure what to do.

Obviously I was supposed to put them on.

I frowned but the sight of my old clothes on the ground made me cringe. It seemed I didn't have much of an option. Even though I really, really didn't want to do it.

But I sucked it up and dropped my towel, stealing a glance at the door to make sure it was firmly shut, before slipping the shirt over my head. The material rubbed against my bare skin and stopped just above my knees. I reached back and hauled my wet hair from against my back and the water from it seeped through the shirt.

I looked slightly apprehensive at the pants. This was going to be difficult, seeing as I had no clean underwear. God, what am I doing?

I sighed and folded them neatly before grabbing my dirty clothes and walking out of the bathroom. Once out I kept my eyes as far away from where I knew Brick was sitting, walking as quickly as I could towards the bed I'd claimed. As I passed his bed I dropped his pants down on the mattress but still looked everywhere but near him.

I gently pulled back the covers and crawled in, my bare legs felt good against the cool sheets and I laid back against the pillows and pulled the blankets up around me. I let out a frustrated breath and tried to shift to get comfortable. When I had finally adjusted into a good position my mind caught up with me and began to remind me, none too nicely, that I wasn't alone.

My eyes flittered over to the bed next to me and suddenly I was uncomfortable.

He was leaning back on his elbows, his shirt stretched against his chest, as the T.V. played quietly in front of him. His white hat was twisted backwards like always on his head and his slow breathing was marked by the slow lifting of his stomach. But his eyes weren't on the television screen.

Brick was staring at me, his eyes intense and his face blank.

I shivered slightly, pulling the covers around me tighter and looking away from him and shutting my eyes tightly in a show of going to sleep. With my eyes closed I strained my ears to hear his movements.

I heard him stand and turn off the T.V. With the static-like sound off the room was intensely silent and I listened to him as he made his way to the bathroom, the door shutting behind him.

I let out a breath I had been holding, my eyes flying open. The lamp between the beds was still on and I stared up at the ceiling, my breathing uneven and my mind panicking. It finally really hit me, the true gravity of this situation.

Here I was, sharing a room with who could be the worst serial murderer since…well, since the last really bad murderer…and I was wearing his shirt. And just laying there, doing nothing, while he could be plotting his next kill.

"Stop it," I whispered, trying to calm myself but my nerves hummed and my body was frozen by the grip of fear that felt almost choking. "Stop it, you're being dumb." I tried again. "Be reasonable, be smart."

I had always, if anything, been reasonable.

I heard the shower turn off, which jolted me because I hadn't even realized it had been turned on, and I turned to face the bathroom door. I forced myself to breath evenly and remain calm. It was okay. Everything was okay.

I'd just go to sleep, wake up, and be alright. No trouble. No issues.

I blinked just as the bathroom door opened up, steam rushing out and filling the air with moisture. And out of the mist stepped Brick, the wanderer, the murderer, the hitchhiker.

Wearing only the silver pants.

Only.

The.

Silver.

Pants.

They were slung low on his hips and I watched, trying my hardest to disappear into the mattress, as he walked into the room towards his bed. When I finally found the ability to swallow…and breath…fear came coursing through me.

Because this new view of him was…informational.

Without his hat on, I noticed, his hair was thick and long. Not shoulder length or anything, but longer then most boys I went to school with who wore a buzz cut. Since it was wet it looked darker, the color of dried blood, and when the lamp light hit it the red locks looked to be on fire.

The next thing I noticed (and eventually the cause of my fear) was that shirtless, Brick had a whole new expanse of skin I hadn't seen before. It was smooth and tanned and when he breathed his stomach was etched with muscled lines. But across the span of his arms and chest and down the skin of his stomach were scars. Little pink lines that littered his skin like the stars littered the sky.

If he felt me watching him, assessing him, he didn't show it. He never looked over at me until he too had climbed into his bed, not getting under the sheets. And then he did look over at me, our eyes meet just as he reached over to shut off the lamp.

He froze, his arm in mid-air and I blinked at him. He blinked. And then he let out a small laugh, gentle and soft, and oddly calming even though I knew I shouldn't trust him. But before I could talk or do anything else he had flicked the switch and the room was bathed in darkness.

Try to sleep.

Just close your eyes.

I did and with my eyes closed I tried to fall into rest but the moment my eyes were closed I saw him, standing there, with the lines of his scars marking his chest. Fear slipped up my spine and I bit my lip in frustration.

What were the scars from?

What did he do to get them?

I felt his presence, so close, and shifted to my side in an effort to ignore him. I needed to sleep in order to drive. I needed to get some rest.

But no matter what I saw him, his hair the color of blood, his white teeth, his tanned skin, and the scars…And suddenly it was very hard to sleep. My stomach felt weird and my body was hyper aware of everything around me…which was basically just him.

'I'm going to die here,' I thought morbidly.

And in the darkness I lay, fearful and aware, not knowing what the boy beside me was capable of. Not knowing how I was going to survive.

Only knowing that no matter what, sleep wasn't going to come easily.

---------------

MMM-kay. There you go.

I hope you liked it…

Ginger? That's a good smell, and who doesn't like smelling shower-fresh? Thanks for all the input, it'll be put to use I promise.

Next question.

How old should Brick be? I was thinking 18…19…20?

What do you think???


	4. Chapter 4

"Let me go!" The blonde girl screamed, her voice high and panicked and I blinked when I noticed a pair of arms wrapped around her, pinning her limbs to her side and preventing her from moving. She screamed again. "Blossom, help me!"

I floated a short distance away, not entirely sure if there was a way I could even help her. I mean, what was I even doing here, ten stories above the ground?

"Blossom!" She called just before she was thrown into a building nearby. I turned and stared at the blonde boy that had previously held her, the one who had thrown her so carelessly, and frowned at him.

"Hey! What's your problem?" He asked with some annoyance.

"I'm not the one who just chucked a girl into a building," I said smartly, my temper rising and my body humming with tampered energy. The blonde teen just narrowed his dark blue eyes, seemingly confused.

Before he could talk, however, someone had grabbed my arm and spun me in the air to face them, their grip firm and unyielding.

I blinked up into blood red eyes.

"Oh shit," I whispered, my voice shaky and my eyes still locked on the eyes of the young man holding me. I stared into the crimson depths and shivered a bit, not quite sure about the familiar feeling I was getting. For a second I recognized him, but then I blinked and the resemblance was gone and I stared at the boyish face a few inches away.

"Come on Red," The boy snapped, "Let's fight."

"W-what?" I managed to get out, flustered and immediately focused on the previous problems at hand. "Who are you?!" I yelled at his face, angry at the boy for being so rude.

"Who am I?" He repeated mockingly. "Who am I?" He laughed. "I'm the same person I was yesterday. I'm the same person I'm going to be tomorrow. I'm the same person who's fought you your whole life." He smirked here, boyishly and confident. "And I'm the person who's about to kick your ass."

I blinked, then felt heat rush to my cheeks as my temper flared. "Oh yeah smart guy?" I snapped. "That still doesn't answer my question." I breathed heavily. "Who are you?"

The boy drew me close, my chest touching his inappropriately and his red eyes boring into mine. The aggressive, almost playful anger was gone from his eyes as he held me with an uncomfortably tight grip, his large hands circling my whole upper arm.

"No Blossom," He said lowly, his body too close to my own, making my mind unfocused with uncalled for feelings. "I think the question is: _Who_ are _you_?"

But before I could answer he had let go of me and my previous ability to fly had obviously been taken away…because, well, now I was falling. The boy was far above me, still in the sky, and my body was fast approaching the ground.

'_Wake up…'_ A voice whispered but the sound of the speeding air around me muffled it.

'Oh god,' I thought miserably, staring at the streets of Townsville that were rushing up to meet me. I shut my eyes as a loud scream ripped through my body and out my mouth and I waited fore the impact of the cold hard earth but before I landed a single thought…my last thought…ran through my mind:

'Who am I?'

Just as I was about to hit the ground I pondered that, realizing with a strange sense of stupidity that I didn't know.

'_Wake up…'_

----

I woke up panting and covered in a thin layer of sweat, the way I always did after a nightmare. The sheet was twisted around me, tangling through my legs and tight around my waist from the many twists and turns I had taken throughout the night.

I sighed, upset. My body was hyper aware and I tried to recall my location, unsure of where exactly I was. It wasn't my room that was for sure. My room smelled better, cleaner, and the sheets were much thicker and softer then these.

When realization finally struck my I froze, the fear from my nightmare returning and bubbling in my chest. I turned my head slowly to the side, my eyes adjusting in the darkness and I caught sight of Brick, lying in the other bed, still asleep.

Or seemingly asleep.

I couldn't tell and was apprehensive about it. I hadn't even realized when I had drifted off but looking at the clock I realized I had only just fallen asleep an hour ago. I had just been too fearful to get a good night's rest, and now I was back up again and I blamed it on the redheaded boy in the bed next to me.

My fear of him must've been transferred into my dreams.

Yes, that was it.

That would also explain why the boy in my dream bore such a strong resemblance to the wanderer. Same color hair, same backwards hat style (even though the boy in my dream wore a red hat), and even the same face. But Brick's face, I realized as I stared at it in the darkness, was older, more defined and less round and boyish. His voice was also deeper then the boy in my dream's. Deeper and more charming.

The eyebrow ring was also different.

I sighed and looked away from him and out the window where the sun would be rising anytime. The black sky was already lighting up with the first signs of daylight and I knew I wouldn't be falling back to sleep. I was awake now.

But how long would I be alive?

I was still so close to him, so available if he got into a rampage. Right in his path. All he had to do was pull a knife or a gun. I'd be a goner. No questions asked.

I looked around the dingy room.

No.

No, I would not die in a cheap motel.

It would not end this way.

I, Bernice, was stronger than that.

I sat up, determined and looking briefly over at my "companion", before untwisting the sheet from my form and stepping out of the bed. The mattress creaked and the rough carpet was coarse against my bare feet but I ignored both happenings, hoping the noise hadn't made known my actions.

As quickly as I could, I grabbed my purse, keys, and old clothes from beneath the pillow I'd hid them under. I slipped my bare feet into my flip flops easily. With my other items securely in my arms I began treading the short distance to the door, proud at myself and my logic for having picked the bed closet to the exit.

Just as I reached out, the doorknob cool and sleek in my hand, I heard Brick roll over in his sleep, the mattress moaning in protest and the bed shifting slightly. My body became rigid as I stood waiting for him to move again and praying he remained asleep.

But he didn't wake up. Or if he was awake, he wasn't going to let me know.

His breathing was deep and his broad shoulders were facing me but I allowed myself no time to take in the view of his bare back. No, there was not time for that. I shook my head and breathed in deep.

And then I was unlocking the door, turning the knob, and stepping outside before I could fully let fear or logic grip me. As the motel door shut behind me I began to walk quickly towards my car, the warm desert air blowing comfortably around me.

As I sat down in my car I realized something and sighed, wanting to bang my head on the steering wheel in frustration.

I was still wearing his shirt.

Only his shirt.

It was highly inappropriate traveling clothes and the white material was traitorous due to the fact that I wasn't wearing any underwear underneath it. And...well, it was just a shirt….and my legs were basically left out in plain view.

He must've planned this.

Yes, that's it.

He expected me to flee and knew that my state of dress (and lack of clothing) would be a hindrance.

That sneaky devil.

I sighed and ran my palms down my bare thighs in annoyance. This was stupid, I was being stupid. This was my chance to leave and the way I was dressed wasn't going to be an issue. Because, I mean, at least I was alive.

I turned the car on, the engine sounding louder than necessary in the early morning quiet. After buckling my seatbelt I pulled out of my spot and started to drive towards the road. The sun would be rising in a moment and even though this put me ahead of schedule, seeing the sunrise wouldn't be too bad.

Yes, this is good.

I'm out and okay.

Bo more crazy hitchhiker.

No more fear.

I sighed with content and despite my wishes I felt my eyes look quickly into the rearview mirror. The motel was disappearing quickly from sight as I began to drive through the town and I felt oddly…unsure of myself. But that was silly, because I was never unsure of myself.

So I swallowed heavily, flicked on the radio, and continued to drive. The warm air felt good on my bare legs and I had finally blinked the last of my sleep away from my eyes.

I did the right thing.

Leaving was smart.

I was sure of that.

----

"Bathrooms are down the hall," An older lady said quickly, her eyes looking me over. I could see that she had already jumped to conclusions about my clothing and I paused to correct her.

"Sorry about this, I just-"

"There are rules here," She said, cutting me off and looking at me over the rims of her red reading glasses. "And one of them says that all customers must be wearing pants in order to come into this diner. Are you wearing pants?" I blinked, put out.

"I'll just go to the bathroom…" I muttered, gripping my bag tightly and making my way down the small hall. Luckily it was early morning and no one was really in the restaurant yet. It seemed I was the first customer.

Quickly, so that I could be rid of the shirt, the last reminder, I put on some clean clothes. After my shirt was buttoned up and my kaki shorts were straightened out, I stared down at the bundle of white with slight hesitation.

Throwing it away would be smart.

Or just leaving it.

But…he hadn't really had much other clothing did he? It'd be wrong for me to carelessly throw out something that made out maybe a quarter of his wardrobe. Psycho killer or not, it was still very gracious of him to lend me a shirt…even if it was part of a plot.

And that's how I found myself stuffing the shirt into my duffel bag, not even bothering to fold it first…which is odd for me.

After that I quickly left the bathroom, ready to eat and be on the road now that I was properly clothed.

I slipped into a booth, grabbing a breakfast menu and looking it over. It seemed fear and lack of sleep had worked up quite the appetite for me and everything on the menu seemed to make my mouth water. _Omelet…pancakes…bacon…waffles…_

Suddenly the door to the diner was flung open, the bell ringing cut through the silence and I turned swiftly to see who had entered…and then wished I hadn't.

Brick stood in the doorway, his faded jeans back on and his gray shirt covering his upper body, and he was…he was sweating? And panting slightly, not too noticeably, but his breathing was definitely quick and heavy.

Had he been running?

I felt my stomach contract in fear, no longer hungry.

Had he chased me? Had he ran all this way, angry I'd left him before he could finish his evil task?

This was horrible, I was all alone. The waitress was in the back and there I was, the only customer. I cursed my stupidity for stopping at a diner so close to the motel…and for ever talking to the redheaded killer in the doorway.

"I'll be out there in a minute, seat yourself sweetie!" The older woman called from the back, seemingly nicer than before. But Brick didn't seem to even hear her. His eyes, and his whole attention, seem to all focus on one thing as his head turned and his hazel eyes met mine.

I bit my lip, my body still twisted in order to see him, and my heart beating faster than normal. I could turn, pretending I didn't see him, but it was too late and he'd seen me. He'd see me stare.

I watched with dismay as he walked towards my booth, his whole body tense and his eyes finally leaving mine to scan the rest of the diner. He obviously was happy to find us alone (so that he could kill me?) because his shoulders seemed to relax slightly and his hands (that had been previously curled into tight fists) relaxed at his side.

"Are you okay?" He asked quickly, urgently.

I blinked up at him, confused.

_What?_

"Excuse me?" I questioned, trying to hide my shock and slight confusion.

"Are you hurt?" He said, his eyes returning to my own and looking at me intensely, scanning my body for something. I just sat, unsure of myself, staring at his hazel eyes. He seemed…concerned?

"Um...no, I'm fine," I said, struggling to regain my composure and forcing myself not to gape at him. What was going on?

I _hated_ not knowing what was going on.

"Where are they?" He said, his words still a rush and his eyes returning to their previous scan of the diner. Um, where are who? "Listen, we have to get out of here before they come back. Just grab your bag and follow me. Do you still have the keys to your car?"

"What are you talking about?" I asked, frustrated with not knowing what was happening. "_Who_ are you _talking _about? What's going on?"

He stood above me, looking at me with this strange look on his face and I could tell he was thinking this through. And finally it must've clicked because the urgency and the tenseness drained from his body and he got the odd, relieved look in his eyes.

"There's no one here with you?" He questioned.

_Unfortunately, no. Just you._ "No, no one's here. Why? Are you expecting someone?" I asked, fixing him with an inquiring glare. He wasn't very affected by it and instead he just let out a short, disbelieving laugh, shaking his head as if something were funny.

"Uh-no," He laughed again and I raised an eyebrow at his out of place mirth. Was this what delirious people acted like when they were having fits? Should I be backing away? "No," He said again. "I just thought… I just…"

He seemed to be in on a joke I wasn't aware of yet and I folded my arms in annoyance, ready for him to explain what exactly he was doing here, following me.

Wait, he was following me!

"You just thought what?" I snapped finally, masking my fear with anger. "And why are you following me?"

"You were running away from me, weren't you?" He said and his voice sounded amused and I watched as he plopped into the seat across from me as if he owned the place. "You…you left at five in the morning…on purpose?"

"Well, yes," I said, irked that he was so humored by my elaborate escape. "Of course it was on purpose, what did you think happened?"

He stopped laughing then, and just stared at me. He seemed to be mauling over something because finally he sighed and shook his head, the rising sun coming through the window and catching his eyes and for a moment they appeared…red. But then I blinked and they were hazel and amused again.

"Nothing," He said with a shrug as if nothing had just happened. As if he hadn't rushed into here to drill me with a thousand questions. "Forget it." He said with a casual wave of his hand and his voice was back to be charming and he snatched the breakfast menu from in front of me and looked it over.

"I wasn't done with that," I muttered against my better judgment but he only smiled charmingly at me before looking back down at it. His charismatic, calm facade made me frown and I sat, trying to figure out what was going on. "You're weird."

He laughed slightly but didn't seem too peeved at the insult…or to really take it seriously.

Just before I asked him, again, why he was following me, the older waitress walked out form the back and made her way over to the table. She seemed to be watching us with a harsh eye and her eyebrows raised, looking slightly more disheveled then she had before I'd gone to the bathroom.

_Where had she been_? I wondered. I could've been murdered in the time it took for her to come out and get our order.

"Good morning," She said. "What can I get you two…newlyweds?" She questioned, her voice feigning innocence but I could tell she had an ulterior motive as she pinned me with a reprimanding look.

"We're _not_ married," I established hurriedly as a blush lit up on my face.

I felt Brick look up at me from the menu, then look over at the waitress, then back at me. I bit my lip to keep from looking over at him, embarrassed by the way my blush was spreading.

"Oh," She said in mock shock. "I only assumed…well, due to your former clothing choice you must understand my confusion. I just understood it to be the day after your wedding night, seeing as you were so informally dressed. But now I see…what's _really_ going on." And she looked at me again with that condescending look.

I felt my temper flare, realizing she was implying I was some kind of hussy.

"Listen-" I began, but I was immediately cut off.

"I'll have a cup of coffee and Spanish omelet," I looked over at Brick, angry he'd stopped my rant. He looked back at me, and I was surprised to see him give me a warning glance and a quick wink before looking back at the mean waitress. "And my fiancée will have the chocolate chip pancakes and a side of bacon…and orange juice."

"Your fiancé?" Both the waitress and I chorused at the same time. Brick just gave her his patented charming smile, handing her the menu.

"Yes," He said with grin. "And can you bring out some extra napkins too?" He asked as if it were all so natural.

"O-of course," The older lady said quickly, looking at me briefly before looking away again, obviously embarrassed by her former implications. "What would you like in your coffee?" She asked.

"Nothing."

I cringed. Black coffee? How could he drink that?

"I'll be right out," She said before turning and walking back to the back to give our orders to the cook.

"What a hypocrite," Brick muttered as he slouched back against the booth cushion.

"What?" I asked, still slightly wary of…well…_everything_.

"She's accusing you of something she was just doing," He said easily. "Didn't you see her messed up hair and shirt buttons unbuttoned? And I didn't exactly see a ring on her finger."

My mouth fell open and I leaned my elbows against the table, hunched towards him like we were conspiring. "Really?" I asked. "You think she was…" I trailed off, too modest and embarrassed to actually say it.

"She was doing something back there," He laughed, a soft look in his eyes as I leaned in closer to whisper.

"She does seem a little shady doesn't she?" I asked in low tones.

"Maybe she's 'the other woman' in a relationship," Brick said, his voice dropping to a low murmur as well. "And she's bitter to all women who aren't confined to a relationship behind closed doors."

"Maybe her and the already married cook are…together…" I said with a failed attempt to hide my smile. "And he refuses to see her because he feels guilty for cheating on his wife. And now he's trying to break it off."

"But he's failing, because she got a job here in order to be near him, even though she's not a good waitress," Brick laughed. "And so they only can see each other during work, but that doesn't give them much time due to the customers."

"Maybe **that **is why she's bitter to all the people who come in here," I nodded.

"Maybe she's going to spit in your food," Brick nodded too and I slapped a hand over my mouth to muffle my laugh. "I'm serious," He said, a smile spreading on his face and I shook my head, my shoulders shaking with repressed laughter. "You just ruined her morning hook-up. She's pissed."

"Stop," I finally said, my face still trying to smile. "None of that is probably true."

"No," He admitted. "But it's possible."

I blinked at him. He stared evenly back.

I shifted off the table. He adjusted his hat.

"So…" I said finally. "You ordered my food for me."

"Yes I did."

"And," I continued. "You're following me."

"Yes I am."

"Well…what makes you think I want pancakes?" I asked, eyeing him, my former mistrust for the boy coming back with the realization that I still didn't know who exactly he was.

He shrugged. "I don't know. You're too skinny, you needed a big meal."

"Well then," I snapped, folding my arms over my stomach and fixing him with a glare. He only seemed amused. "What makes you think I want you to follow me?"

"I'd say…"He pretended to think. "The fact that you high-tailed it and ran away this morning without so much as a pause. That definitely gave me the feeling you wanted to be followed." Sarcasm was evident in his voice.

I opened my mouth to apologize for leaving so abruptly but then clamped it shut. Why should I be apologizing? He should be apologizing! He's the one who's following me when I obviously don't want him to!

"Here you go," The waitress said as she came out, our food and drinks on a tray. She sat my food and juice in front of me and I watched as the steaming cup of dark liquid was slid in front of Brick.

"Thanks," He said, picking up his fork to dig in. Just before I did the same he looked at me with an amused look back in his eyes. 'Don't eat it.' He mouthed, indicating to my pancakes.

I frowned at him.

But didn't eat my pancakes.

I just chewed on my bacon, watching his drink his coffee, all the while wondering if he was still planning on killing me. And if the waitress really did spit in my food.

----

"Where are we heading to next?" Brick asked as he lounged comfortably in my passenger's seat. I gripped the steering wheel and looked over at him, the desert going quickly by.

Somewhere between him giving me half of his Spanish omelet and paying for the meal, it had gone without saying that he was coming with me. I of course didn't want him to. But there he was anyway, and there wasn't much I could do about it.

"I don't know," I lied easily. I hoped I could still drop him off at the next stop. Then he wouldn't have to know where I was going. I felt him look over at me and forced myself not to blush or glare back.

"New Mexico will be coming up in about an hour," He supplied.

"I said I was going west, remember?" I said quickly, panicking slightly.

"Yeah, I remember," He replied coolly. "But you were lying."

I opened my mouth to deny it, but then sighed with annoyance. "How'd you know?"

"You have California license plates."

_Oh, yeah._

"But I could be returning home," I defended.

"But you're not. You're leaving home and going east, am I right?" He asked and I bit my lip. "Thought so." He said and I hated his smug tone.

"Okay," I said quickly. "I lied. But it's not like I was going to tell a complete stranger where I was going." I reminded him, mentally reminding myself that he was _still_ a compete stranger.

"You're extremely paranoid, aren't you?" He asked and I felt him looking at me. I looked over at him and forced my eyes to be angry.

"No," I snapped. "And put on your seatbelt."

He laughed but complied, snapping the buckle in place and adjusting the strap to rest behind him. I hated that he acted so comfortable in my car. I hated that he was_ in_ my car. But still he might have a gun…or a chainsaw…so I wasn't going to piss him off.

And who did he think he was, calling me paranoid?

"So, you don't know me and I don't know you, is that the problem?" Brick asked after about ten minutes of driving in silence. I started, shocked to hear his voice and angry he'd disrupted my quiet time.

I was trying to relax!

"Yes, that's one of many problems," I said airily.

"Okay," I could practically feel his charming smile. "Let's fix that." He said and I hated how mature and diplomatic he sounded. "First question: Who are you?"

'_No Blossom. I think the question is: _Who _are_ you'

I felt myself pale.

His words, the same question from my dream.

I gripped the steering wheel tighter, refusing to look over at him, knowing he'd look almost identical to the boy in my dream.

I didn't need this.

I didn't need any of this.

"Just be quiet," I said before reaching over and flicking on the radio, my body rigid and my hand unsteady.

He didn't say anything and I heard an annoyed sigh escape his lips as he shifted to face the window. I worried slightly that I'd pissed him off, but still I couldn't bring myself to talk to him.

'_Scars are souvenirs you never lose  
The past is never far  
Did you lose yourself somewhere out there  
Did you get to be a star'_

I seemed I'd gotten myself a traveling buddy. No matter how much that thought disheartened me.

And now here I was, traveling across the country with him by my side. And I didn't even know who he was.

'_And don't it make you sad to know that life  
Is more than who we are'_

I chewed on my lip in thought and looked at him out of the corner of my eye.

His profile was sharp, defined, and his eyes were watching the passing land. He felt me watching him and his shoulders, broad and strong, tensed slightly but he didn't look over at me. I sighed and looked away.

'_You grew up way too fast  
And now there's nothing to believe  
And reruns all become our history'_

As much as I wanted to stay afraid of him, stay mad that he'd gotten into my car again, I was beginning to lose grip of these emotions. Because, although I was still fearful of him, I couldn't overlook certain things that had happened.

Like how he'd given me a place to sleep.

And clothes.

And a free meal.

And a good laugh

And company.

'_A tired song keeps playing on a tired radio  
And I won't tell no one your name'_

"My name is Blossom," I said, my voice oddly calm. "Blossom Bernice Utonium."

I looked over at him again, and he was staring at me with the indecipherable look in his eyes. And then he smiled. A real smile, not the charming one he usual did. And this smile was oddly more charming then any I'd seen before. And his teeth were white and his skin was tanned and he was so close.

"Nice to meet you," He said with some humor.

'_And I won't tell em your name'_

"Nice to meet you too."

----

**There you go. **

**I hope that was okay. Not much really happened in that chapter but I needed to update and I'd been working on that…so there it is.**

**Sorry about the slow pace, words cannot describe how busy I've been.**

**Soooo….yeah. I really hope you like it.**

**And next time more will happen.**

**And what's the coolest tattoo you can think of?**


	5. Chapter 5

On the way to the next town conversation was…lacking.

I debated with myself constantly if I should attempt to say something. But nothing ever came to mind. I mean, what are you suppose to say to a complete stranger in your car? How's the weather? Nice day isn't it? Are you planning to kill me? How about now?

But after the first hour of silence, Brick's dark broody form hunched next to the window, I realized with amusement that Brick wasn't comfortable with the silence either. And so he decided to disrupt it.

And the rest of our trip to town went something like this:

------

"So how exactly is _this_ relaxing?"

"I'm enjoying the scenery that's passing by."

"But your not. You're looking at the road."

"I know."

"Then how is this relaxing?"

"It's not."

----

"Do we have to listen to this music?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"It's all that's on the radio."

"Didn't you bring CDs?"

"Of course."

"Then, do we have to listen to this music?"

"No."

---

"You have a **Peter****Edgelow's Breathing and Relaxing CD."**

**"How very perceptive of you."**

**"Thanks."**

**"Hey, put it back."**

**"Why do you have it if you're not going to listen to it?"**

**"Just put it back!"**

**"But I want to learn to breathe."**

**"You already know how to breathe."**

**"Not Peter Edgelow's way."**

**---**

"I can't believe we're listening to this CD."

"Hey, you own it."

"But you put it in."

"Why own it if you're not going to listen to it?"

"You asked me that already."

"You didn't answer."

"Just put in another CD."

---

"So how exactly did you get money for the motel room and breakfast?"

"I worked."

"Worked where?"

"A place that gave me money."

"You're being elusive."

"And you're being nosey."

----

"Look at that."

"It's a hawk."

"No, its Ferruginous Hawk."

"That's still a hawk."

"But it's more specific."

"But still just a hawk."

----

"We should reach town soon."

"Are you hungry?"

"Since I couldn't eat my pancakes this morning, yes."

"I gave you some of my omelet."

"I didn't want the omelet."

"You wanted the spit pancakes."

"She probably didn't even spit in them."

"She might have."

"But she probably didn't."

---

"How did you know what type of hawk it was?"

"How did you get that money for the motel and meal?"

"You asked me that already."

"You didn't answer."

"You're right."

"Yeah."

----

Finally we arrived in town, my gas gauge almost hitting the 'E' and my throat dry from the lack of water and the random conversations. In truth, I was also starving, but filling up on gas was more important.

"This place is a drag," Brick said as he was leaning into the car, looking through his bag for something. I stood on the other side of the car, holding the gas nozzle and watching him through the windows.

He stood up, looking at me from over the car's hood, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. So that's what he'd been looking for. I didn't even try to hide my disgust but he didn't notice or care.

Instead he looked around, seemingly…paranoid? His thumb tapped against the hood of the car and his eyes scanned the surroundings. I blinked, shocked at the sudden change in his demeanor.

"I'm gonna' go inside and grab us some water." He said, his unlit cancer stick moving as he talked and his voice now holding that…low tone. "Do you need anything else?" He asked while pulling a lighter from his pocket.

"Is something wrong?" I asked.

"No, I just thought…" He trailed off, looking at me and sighing. "Never mind. It's nothing."

I let it go, reluctantly.

"You can't smoke here." I said quickly.

"Smoking is legal you know," He said with a bit of sarcasm, giving me humored look, the tenseness I hadn't realized he had suddenly drained from his body.

"Not at a gas station." I replied, proud to outsmart him.

But obviously he didn't care about the rules _or_ the 'No Smoking' signs hanging on every pole because in one solid motion he had his cigarette lit and smoke was drifting from his mouth.

"Are you trying to get us blown up?" I asked with slight horror.

"Do you want the water or not?" He obviously didn't mind the idea of blowing us, the car, and the whole gas station sky high just because of his disgusting addiction. I mean, couldn't he be a little considerate? Even if he was a serial killer, he'd still be killing himself too!

"Are you even old enough to smoke?" I asked, ignoring his previous question. I felt the handle lurch in my hand and quickly pulled the gas hose out before putting it back on the rack.

When I looked back at Brick he was standing there, still and calm, looking at me with this strange look on his face as smoke pooled from the end of the cigarette.

"How old do you think I am?" He asked, pulling the cigarette from his mouth and looking at me with slightly narrowed eyes. I frowned, the casual, slightly boyish attitude he'd displayed in the car was gone again and his body was yet again tense.

"Sixteen…seventeen…" I said with slight trepidation.

And then he laughed.

A surprised, short, unamused laugh.

"Seventeen?" He asked, flicking the cigarette to the ground and stepping on it, not once tearing his eyes from mine. His eyes which were now fiery and less charming then usual.

I had a feeling I was glimpsing something a lot darker…a lot more dangerous then I'd seen so far, all revealed from behind his eyes.

And I swallowed, realizing that this was what I'd been expecting all along. This was what I'd feared. This unexplainable look in his eyes. Not anger, but a true glimpse of what he'd been covering up so far:

Danger.

"You're not seventeen." I said although it was obvious now, and I didn't quite understand why this conversation was getting him so unreasonable.

And then I remembered the way he'd been looking around. They way he'd been distracted the moment we'd pulled into the gas station. The conversation wasn't the reason for the look in his eyes.

Something else was.

"How old are _you_?" He asked, raising his eyebrows and leaning up against the car to pin me with a look. I shifted awkwardly. Did it matter? Did he only kill girls of a certain age? "Oh God, you're sixteen aren't you."

"No," I said quickly and he sighed with some small amount of relief. "I'm seventeen." And he laughed.

"Seventeen," He muttered, shaking his head. "Shit."

"What's wrong with being seventeen?" I asked, bothered by his attitude. He wasn't looking or listening to me anymore though. Instead he had buried his face into his hands and was leaning against the car.

I thought I heard him mutter something along the lines of: "You're going to get a fucking kid killed Brick."

But I couldn't be sure.

"Is there a problem here?" A voice asked, startling me and making me spin around quickly.

A worker from inside the station was walking towards us, his nametag still on and a frown on his face. I worried he'd see Brick and think he was having a mad rage and call the cops on us. But the boy's eyes were on me.

"Um…" I looked over at Brick who was still dead to the world on the other side of my car. "No." I lied. "No problem."

"Then can you please come in and pay for your gas?" He asked, slightly annoyed.

"Sure," I sighed, grabbing my purse and turning to follow him. I threw Brick another questioning look before walking into the store to pay for my gas. But he didn't see it. He didn't even look up.

----

He wasn't there when I got back out.

I looked around, confused, but a part of me had already known he wasn't going to be there. I'm not sure how, but I just knew it. And so I just sighed and walked over to my car, climbed in, and road off towards the restaurant I had planned to go to.

I couldn't really understand, however, how he'd just left. No excuse. No nothing.

All because I was seventeen?

Or what had really been bothering to put him in that mood? To make my age set him off kilter?

I tried to ignore my curiosity. My wonder of why he had acted so…strange about my age. Did it really matter?

I frowned and pulled into a parking spot in front of the deli restaurant. I was hungry and I needed the food as a distraction from the strange since of loneliness I was getting. Which was stupid. Because I was alive. And happy Brick was gone. No matter why he left.

But I felt a little colder in my booth.

And the car was too quiet.

But that's okay.

Because I was alive.

----

I laid down on the mattress, tired and feeling better after my shower. I had brought in my school books, intent on getting some work done but I'd underestimated my fatigue and instead I just sprawled out on the itchy sheets and waited for sleep to claim me.

And eventually it did.

---

"_So it'll be a secret?" I heard myself ask. A boy was standing in the shadows a few feet in front of me and I shifted slightly to try and make out his face. But the shadows hid him._

"_No one will know," The voice confirmed. A familiar voice, but I wasn't quite sure where I'd heard it before. But it made me feel nervous and I looked around to make sure no one was watching…no one had seen._

"_Fine then," I confirmed, feeling myself release a breath of relief. _

"_I just took it because…" I trailed off, realizing I wasn't sure what I was talking about. What was going on? Where was I?_

"_You don't have to explain," I heard the voice again and the low tones caught my attention and I looked back at the shadowed form, frowning. Who was he?_

"_But-" I tried to continue, trying to catch my bearings. I was in an alleyway, that was for sure. And it definitely wasn't in the right part of town. I could hear sirens and a cat was watching me with wide eyes from the top of a trashcan._

"_Listen Blossom," The voice cut me off, and I frowned again, not used to being interrupted. The form stepped from the shadows, and the glow of a streetlight nearby destroyed the darkness that had hid the person's features from my view. "I'm not here to judge."_

_Brick?_

_I frowned, confused. Where was his eyebrow ring? Where was-_

"_But in my opinion," He continued, stepping closer again and I felt myself tense and my hands form fists at my side. The light caught his eyes and they glowed…red. And he was close. Too close. And I had to look up to get a good look at his face. "You're too smart for that."_

_Too smart for what?_

"_But you won't tell?" I tried to confirm, still not knowing exactly what I was talking about. What we were talking about. _

_It was some kind of secret._

_A dark secret._

_Brick shifted and a slow smirk smile slid across his face and he stared down at me and I remained tense, unsure of what he was doing._

"_You're secret's safe with me." He replied and I noticed he had sparks of gold in his eyes. "Just be more careful from now on," He said before stepping around me and I heard his footsteps leaving the alleyway. I spun quickly, eager not to let him go. _

"_What?" I called to him._

"_I said-" Brick began, turning his head to look at me over his shoulder. His eyes were crimson and alive and I felt myself swallow, nervous because I wasn't quite sure what to think about those eyes. "-wake up."_

_Huh?_

'_Wake Up…'_

----

I drifted between the state of sleep and awake, hovering for a moment, not quite ready to wake up and not sure why I was rising so early. I barely felt rested at all. And then I heard what had woken me.

'Bang! Bang! Bang!'

Someone was ramming their fist against the motel door.

I felt my body begin to freeze with fear and my heart lurched into my throat. What was going on?

I sat up nervously and slinked to the floor beside the bed, putting the piece of furniture between me and the door. I held my breath, unsure of what to do next. I glanced briefly at the phone on the nightstand, not knowing if I should call the police.

"Blossom open up!"

_As if._

Wait. Blossom?

Who called me Blossom besides my mom?

Was I still dreaming?

"Blossom, it's Brick, open up. **Now**." I shifted on my heels, my eyes peering over the bed and at the door, not trusting the voice or willing to take the command. I swallowed, waiting. "I know you're in there."

I let out a shaky sigh before raising myself to stand straight. I walked around the bed slowly, not wanting to open the door but fearing Brick might break it down if I didn't.

"Yes?" I asked as I opened the door to a slight crack, barely being able to see Brick in the dark of the night. "Umph!" I grunted as I fell back on my butt, the door swinging open and knocking me down.

Brick stalked in, practically walking over me to reach the bed. I remained in the sitting position, inching on my butt towards the open door, frightened. But he didn't seem to want to acknowledge me and instead made himself busy, grabbing my purse and bag from the ground and stuffing the rest of my belonging into them.

"What are you doing?" I asked, finally finding my voice and amazed when it didn't shake or stutter.

He looked over at me quickly, distractedly, before turning back. Then something must've hit him because he turned back to look at me, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes scanned me over.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his voice low and fast.

"Yes," I muttered, shifting towards the door again.

"Why are you on the floor?" He asked, his voice no longer charming like it had once been, but not too harsh either.

"The door hit me when it swung open."

He pulled my bags over his shoulder, purse and all, before taking a large step towards me and in one swift motion he grabbed the crook of my arm and hauled me to my feet. I ignored how strong he must've been in order to do that. I ignored the feel of his hand, circling my arm.

Instead I focused on the fact that he still hadn't answered me.

"What are you doing?" I repeated. "What's going on?"

He didn't reply, instead he pulled me from the room and into the cool night. He reached back and shut the door behind him. I stumbled after him, my bare feet against the concrete, as he began to drag me along the side of the building, away from the room and my car.

"Let me go!" I demanded, finally overcoming my shock enough to let common sense break through. I clenched my fist and hit the arm that was pulling me as hard as I could.

But he didn't let go.

And I realized when he stopped abruptly, causing me to stop as well, that my last move probably hadn't been _that_ smart.

Especially now that he was glaring down at me, his face shadowed.

_A boy was standing in the shadows…_

"You have to be quiet," He hissed before turning to pull me again. "They're here."

I gulped. This was it. I had known it was coming all along hadn't I?

I knew he'd kill me. I knew it. And now here he was to do it.

He was in one of his insane, gut spilling rages and he'd come to chop me up and leave me in the desert.

Wait, 'they're here'?

I shook my head distractedly.

"Please," I whispered, not quite sure what I meant but my words stopped his movements. He looked at me, then back out across the parking lot, then back into my eyes again.

"Listen," He said, pulling me close and looking his voice was serious and his breath was warm against my face. "You have to be quiet, okay? If you talk they'll hear you, and then we're fucked. Be quiet and I'll protect you."

I blinked, there he went again, talking about 'they'.

They, _who_?

He had…he had said something like that before…the day before when I had ran away from the motel. When he had suddenly appeared in the diner, panting, looking for me.

I had just assumed he was having an insane fit, but now I thought hard trying to remember what he had said…

"_Where are they?" He said, his words still a rush and his eyes returning to their previous scan of the diner. ""Listen, we have to get out of here before they come back…"_

I blinked. "They, who?" I asked, whispering in order to appease him, but refusing to drop the question.

This…this wasn't a rant of a mad man.

This wasn't some illusion he had cooked up.

The look in his eyes weren't one of an insane man…but of a man on the run.

But on the run from what?

"They, who?" I repeated.

Brick looked down at me and sighed.

"I can't tell you now," He said and tried to continue walking but I refused to let my feet be moved. He sighed again. "I'll tell you later, okay? But for now you just have to trust me." I opened my mouth but he spoke first. "Just trust me."

"But my car," I said hopelessly.

"Just trust me." He repeated.

"You'll tell me what's going on?"

"Yes, but for now you _have_ to trust me."

I nodded my head and again his hand grabbed me, this time my wrist, and he began to pull me along behind him. I went more willingly this time.

And as we walked off towards town, away from the motel, I looked back towards the parking lot…and saw about four dark figures surrounding my car.

And then I heard glass shatter, breaking the silence of the night.

And then we turned a corner and I couldn't see them anymore and could only hear our own hurried footsteps.

I looked back at the boy pulling me, fear in the pit of my stomach and my mind awhirl.

He looked back at me quickly, as if making sure my body were still attached to my arm and the look in his eyes told of secrets.

_A dark secret._

But then he looked away and I just continued to pull me. To where, I didn't know.

----

**MMM-kay.**

**How was that for chapter five?**

**That was really hard to write so sorry if it was too confusing.**

**But more happened right?**

**So, tell me honestly what you think so far.**


	6. Chapter 6

We sat in a quiet diner (more like an old coffee house), across from each other in a booth near the window. Outside cars raced by on the highway, their headlights clear for only seconds in the dark of the night before they disappeared into their destination.

I wondered if I ran towards them, if anyone would stop for me.

I wondered if they'd even notice.

I sighed and swallowed deeply.

"You promised you'd tell me what's going on," I reminded the boy in front of me, but he had barely acknowledged me since we'd arrived. He'd just shoved me none-too-gently into the booth before sitting down himself. Ever since then he'd switched from looking at the menu to scanning the diner and the darkness outside.

My words, however, did cause his eyes to meet mine for a second, his face emotionless if not a little annoyed. I felt my own annoyance pick up but knew better than to show it. I'd let my guard down (sort of) around him for a moment, and now I'd been kidnapped and dragged into some kind of mess.

This is why I was always cautious. This is why I got afraid.

"Just get something to eat," He said, pushing my menu about and inch closer to me, as if I couldn't have reached it or seen it myself. I frowned and clutched my hands in my lap, refusing to comply to his suggestion. "You'll feel better." He tried to reason but I knew it was only meant to distract me.

"I don't see how eating will make me feel better," I said dryly but somehow I was suddenly gripping the menu and looking down at it as if I had no control of my actions. This scared me, because if nothing else, I always could control myself.

I frowned and squinted down at the menu. The words seemed like a different language to my cluttered mind and I had trouble focusing enough to read what was available to order. I blinked a few times but was still too distracted.

We had entered a lapse of silence in which I stared blankly at the menu, wondering how I could possibly tell the waitress I was in danger without Brick seeing. Maybe I could mouth 'Call the police.'

But if he saw he could get mad…and kill us all.

A part of me said I was being silly; that Brick wasn't the one I should be afraid of.

But another part, the stronger part that had driven my logic most of my life, reminded me that I'd just been dragged off in the middle of the night. I shivered and gripped the menu tighter.

"Are you cold?" I looked up to find Brick watching me, his hazel eyes on my face before they moved to scan quickly down. They observed my white knuckles. The corner of his mouth tugged down into a small, barely perceivable, frown at my tight grip.

The diner _was_ freezing, although I hadn't really noticed it until then, but that wasn't why I shivered. I frowned though, and just nodded. He didn't need to know how scared I truly was.

I learned from a young age the showing fear was just as dangerous as having it.

"I'm not exactly wearing shoes," I reminded him, still upset about my hasty capture. Not only were shoes required for restaurants, but who knew what kind of germs were on the ground? And here I was with my bare toes rubbing against the cold tiles as my feet swung beneath the table.

Brick opened his mouth but the waitress bustled up before he could talk. I looked over at the woman, her movements were tired and her mouth was smiling slightly. But unfortunately her eyes were on her notepad, ready to take our orders, instead of looking at me for a sign to call the cops.

"What can I get you two?" She asked.

"Coffee," Brick said and although he was addressing the waitress I could feel his eyes on me, waiting for me to order as well.

I got the feeling he was trying to see if I was going to play along with this 'nothing is wrong' act he'd been perfecting since we'd entered the restaurant.

However, the memory of the run from the motel and the recollection of how he'd pulled me quickly down the road refused to let me slip fully into the role.

"I'm not hungry," I said plainly, honestly. I was far too nervous to eat.

"She'll have a stack of pancakes," Brick said and I almost shot him a glare before I remembered myself and looked hastily down at the table surface. Act slightly normal. Just slightly.

He handed the waitress our menus and gave her a charming smile before she walked slowly to the kitchen.

"I'm not hungry," I repeated, still glaring down at the offending table top.

"A girl's got to eat," He said and for the first time since my capture, his charming tone of voice was back. The sudden change from his low, harsh tones earlier had me looking up at him in slight amazement.

'_There's nothing more dangerous than a bad boy with charm,'_ Someone had once told me.

I was beginning to see what they meant.

What's worse then a dangerous person with the ability to convey an illusion of trust?

"I'm not hungry," I repeated yet again, somewhere in the back of my mind a voice was warning me not to test my limits. But I, of course, ignored it. "I don't want pancakes, I don't want pleasant conversations, and I don't want to sit around in a restaurant with no shoes on. I just want you to tell me what's going on."

I just want to get out of here…

He was silent for a moment and the charming mask faltered slightly, but only enough for me to see him frown. But then, as quickly as it had fell, it was back up again with full force. He was smiling again and even though his eyes were serious, his dark eyebrows were raised in amusement.

"You don't want a pleasant conversation?" He asked finally and it took me all of a second to realize he was mocking me. "You're a hard girl to please."

"Brick," I warned and it felt weird to say his name out loud. Mostly because it felt almost familiar. Like I was used to talking to him, like I always said his name in the same ill-tempered way.

But that was dumb. I'd tried to avoid saying his name since the first time he'd told it to me.

"You're intense, aren't you?" He asked and his smile morphed into a smirk.

"When the situation calls for it, yes," I answered dryly, wondering if this boy ever answered a straight forward question or took a hint…..or killed anybody. (Hey, it's a logical question given the circumstances. And no, I hadn't forgotten he was a depraved lunatic with a thirst for blood.)

"What kind of situation do you think we're in Bernice?

Odd. He'd taken to calling me Blossom before.

"A bad one," I said, failing to come out with a more articulate answer. I could begin to describe to him just how bad I thought it was, but then he'd realize my fear. And I needed to regain control.

"Very observant," he commented dryly, still acting as if this were all a game. A joke. It was only the look in his eyes that kept me from thinking it really was some kind of practical joke. A bad ruse.

"How bad is it Brick?" Again his name came casually from my tongue. I should've been stumbling over it and hesitating.

He said nothing for a second and I could practically see him try to judge if he should tell me. If he could trust me.

"_Please_," I said softly. Usually my temper was enough to get me what I wanted but with this boy nothing ran as it should. And so I used the technique my mother used on my father every time he was being unreasonable. Appear demure and weak. "You promised you'd tell me. _Brick_."

I wasn't sure if it was the way if made my eyes soft or the way I stressed his name at the end but something made his eyes, his whole demeanor, softer and he looked away from me and moodily out the window.

Geez, between the two of our tempers and odd mood swings there was never a moment we weren't straining to keep up with each other.

"I don't know how to tell you…" He began just when I had thought he'd decided not to tell me. "I don't know how to tell you about those people. I don't know much about them myself."

I stopped talking and remained staring out into the night, the cars on the highway passed by but I no longer had the urge to run to them. I was glued to my spot.

"But they're following you?" I pressed, displaying the patience I used when my mother went off on one of her tangents and tried to trade all the lamps in the house with lava lamps and put beanbags in the sitting area instead of a recliner.

Brick looked at me then and I saw secrets burn behind his eyes.

"Yes," He said simply.

"And they they're after me now too. Because of you?" I asked, tying to get as much information out of him as I could. I swallowed at the thought that these unknown foes were after me too.

Brick's eyes flared and he looked back out the window.

"Yes." He said again.

I didn't ask anything else which was…weird for me. But I instead I stared at the smooth side of the boy's face that was presented to me. His skin was dark and his eyes were heated.

I frowned as I realized something.

He was lying to me.

I didn't know how I knew, but I did.

It was in the way his mouth was tightened into a small frown, the way his jaw had tensed. It wasn't because he was angry liked these signs would normal indicate but because he was lying to me.

I opened my mouth to press the subject, to bombard him with a million questions, but just then the waitress came with out food, her smile pleasant but I could hardly focused on her. I could barely remember to say thank you.

Instead I focused on the boy across from me.

Focus on how her stared out into the fading night.

I couldn't be sure what he was thinking, but one thing was for sure:

He knew more about our shadowed opponents then he was telling me.

And that fact alone kept me staring at him, trying to figure out what exactly was hunting him.

Hunting _us_.

---

"We can't go back to your car now," Brick said as walked deeper into the small town, away from the highway, away from the restaurant, away from the motel. He was pulling me along by my wrist although he needn't bother, it wasn't like I had anywhere to run. My cell phone (my only way of calling for help) was zipped up in my purse that was strewn on his opposite shoulder along with my duffel bag and his backpack.

I fought the urge to taunt him. He was, after all, carrying a purse.

I resisted only because I knew he was still a psychopath with the intent of killing me. Or at least I was pretty sure he was. I wasn't quite sure anymore but pretending to know helped ease my doubt. The fact that I knew next to nothing was just as terrifying as everything else that was going on.

"But I still have stuff in it!" I argued, ignoring the looks I received from the people we were passing.

"So?" He muttered, distracted as he looked up at the signs above the little shops we were passing.

I tried to drag my feet to annoy him but only resulted in having him tug me harder as he continued walking. My bare feet kicked up dust as I stumbled to keep up. I _hated_ being dragged along like a little puppy.

"Those _people_ can't still be there! We might as well go and get my stuff, get in the car, and hit the road until we find a police station," I reasoned, proud of my plan.

But…

Wait….

"Why exactly aren't we going to a police station in this town?" I asked. Why hadn't I thought of that before? Where had my sense of reason gone?

Suddenly I was tugged into a shop, my arm hurting from the force and my eyes blinking to adjust to the dim light as apposed to the bright morning light outside. I soon realized he had dragged me into a small shoe store.

"Brick?" I pressed, watching his back as he looked around.

"Can I help you?" Asked a young teenage girl who stared at us from behind her small counter. Her eyes were filled with a perplexed interest.

"We're looking for some tennis shoes, size…." Brick looked over at me, his face smiling his temptingly trustworthy smile.

"Eight," I muttered, a little shocked he had taken me to get shoes. "And I prefer flip-flops."

The teenage girl looked over at Brick as if for confirmation.

"She'll take tennis shoes," Brick offered his smile assuring the girl to listen to him and not me. "Thank you."

The girl disappeared into a back room where more shoes were stored and before I could snap at Brick for refusing to comply to my wants I was pushed against a small chair used during fittings. I stared up, shocked as Brick glared down at me.

"We can't go back to your car, okay?" he snapped. "It's pointless and I doubt it'd be in the condition to drive anyway. Anything that you left in there is probably gone anyway. So just forget about it."

I swallowed, feeling a bit miffed. My car…destroyed?! God, how was I supposed to help pay for my college if I had to buy another car? What if I couldn't get enough scholarships to cover it? What if-

"Will these do?" The girl asked and I looked over to see her holding an off-brand pair of white tennis shoes. On better observation I noticed all the shoes in the shops were off-brand and seemingly cheap.

"Perfect," Brick assured her. The girl moved to help me put them on my feet but Brick quickly grabbed them from her, sending her a wink when she stepped back in shock. "Thanks."

He then made a good show of kneeling in front of me, his eyes bright and his movements boisterous as if this were an everyday occurrence. The girl, seemingly convinced that she wasn't needed, stepped back and finally retreated towards her counter.

I used the privacy as an opportunity to keep pestering him.

"Why aren't we going to the police Brick?" I asked, ignoring his hand that was now gripping my dusty foot and pulling it to rest against his thigh as he knelt. Instead I focused on his face. His hazel eyes rose to meet mine.

"If that were and option, don't you think I would've done it already?" He seemed a bit insulted as if I'd questioned his intelligence and I just rolled my eyes.

Alright, so no police…

That sucked.

I tried to think of another plan as he slipped the plain shoe onto my foot with his free hand and then began to lace it. I frowned, my mind working quick but nothing else came to mind. If only I could get to my purse he was holding I could call my father. He'd know what to do. He'd help us out of whatever mess Brick had gotten me into.

I bit my lip and frowned.

"Why do I need tennis shoes?" I asked. "How are we going to get out of here? Are we just going to stay in this town forever?"

Brick looked up at me and his fingers drifted from the laces and brushed against the skin near my ankle. His fingertips were worn but only remained there for a second before pulled away, standing up and letting my foot fall out of his lap and back onto the ground.

"Perfect fit, we'll take them," Brick smiled at the girl who had been watching us with unmasked interest. I was shocked to realize I had forgotten she was there.

I shook my head and pulled on the other shoe, quickly lacing it up as Brick fished a few crumpled bills out of his pocket and gave them to the girl. I stood and pretended to look at the other shoes, trying to ignore the fact that I was actually waiting for him and not using this opportunity to run.

I had logical reasons for all of these actions, of course.

I just couldn't think of them right now.

"Have a good day!" The girl called to us, her voice amused. And before I could blink Brick had my wrist in his grip and I was being pulled back out onto the streets. It was easier to keep up with the shoes, I must admit.

After a few steps I quickened my pace so that I was walking in step with him. He looked over at me and smiled charmingly when I offered him a glare. I suddenly got the urge to yell, scream, fight, and pull away.

If I did that he might let go of me, nervous that I was drawing attention and then I could run. Run away from my captor.

But run to where?

No, whatever was going on and whatever danger I was in, my safest bet was sadly to stay near Brick. At least for now, until I could figure out what was going on.

My captor had strangely become my companion, if only for now.

"The tennis shoes," Brick breathed into my ear and I jumped, startled out of my thoughts. He had stepped over to walk closer to me in order to keep his voice low and his breath was hot against the edge of my ear and cheek. "Are in case you need to run."

I nodded my understanding, swallowing a bout of fear.

"And that," he pointed to a small car lot on the corner of the street. I followed his finger and caught sight of a slightly older blue car. "That is how we're getting out of here."

"Is that _your_ car?" I asked, staring. Out of the corner of my eye I caught him smirk.

"Once _we_ steal it, yes."

------

**And that, **_**Aurora Powerpunk**_**, was for you **

**Sorry, everyone, that it took so long to update. If this is bad I'm very sorry, I do know where I'm basically going with this, I swear.**

**Thanks for remaining loyal and please review. It will get you another chapter even quicker ;-p**

**So please, please, please tell me what you think.**


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